Whisper

by Lynette Noni

  At Ward’s nod, the others turn to head toward the door. Keeda sends me a half smile and a wave goodbye, but Crew walks off without looking back.

  Enzo seems torn about leaving us. Or that’s what I guess, until he inexplicably says, “Sneak, buddy, you coming?”

  I nearly jump out of my skin when a soft, disembodied voice responds, “Yeah, Enz. But I wanna meet her first.”

  Then I do jump in the air when a semitransparent boy materializes less than a foot away from me. I stumble backward, trip over my feet and start to fall, but Ward’s hand snakes out to grab my elbow, and he hauls me back upright. I jerk my arm from his grip and sidestep away, not sure who I want to be farthest from — him, or the ghost boy.

  “Hi,” the boy says, with a timid wave.

  He’s still in that gawky-limbed growing stage, making me guess he’s around fourteen or so. He has auburn hair layered like a bird’s nest on top of his head. When I just stare at him, he glances bashfully at the ground, pushes wire-framed glasses up his nose and shuffles his feet uncomfortably.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbles, looking like he wants to disappear again.

  “This is Sneak,” Enzo says, clapping a hand on the shoulder of the partially see-through boy. “His physical ability makes him like a human chameleon, since he can use words to blend into his surroundings or even disappear entirely.”

  “I’m still learning control,” Sneak tells me, pink spreading across his cheeks. “Ever since I first Spoke, I haven’t been able to turn back to fully solid.” He flutters his hands downward to indicate his body. “This is the best I can manage for now.”

  “Don’t worry, bud, you’ll get there,” Enzo encourages. “We all have to start somewhere.”

  Sneak nods his agreement and sends Enzo a small smile, pushing his glasses up again. “Do you think they’re serving chocolate pudding in the mess hall tonight?”

  Mess hall? Do the others not live in personal quarters like Ward and Cami? There is still so much to learn about Lengard.

  Enzo laughs and slings his noninjured arm around the younger boy’s neck. “Why don’t we go and find out? Catch you later, Lando. And I’ll see you in the morning, JD.”

  Whether he forgot Ward’s order about my name or he just chose to ignore it since most of the others have already left, I’m not sure. I send him a tight smile, which he returns with a full grin, then he leads the ghost boy out the door.

  The moment it seals behind them, I feel an acute sense of discomfort.

  When the silence stretches on and finally becomes too much, I fortify myself and glance up, to find Ward watching me. I keep my expression open, hoping he can read the confusion, the frustration, the wonder I’m feeling bubbling up inside me. How can any of this be possible? And what, exactly, do they expect from me? To be trained as … one of their warriors? A limitless Creator — no wonder they kept me around for so long, waiting in hope that I might eventually prove my worth. The joke is on them, though, since I can’t give them what they want. Limitless, I might be, but I won’t risk the damage I could cause. The damage I will cause.

  … The damage I have caused.

  “There are two rules I expect you to follow,” Ward tells me without any lead-up. “The first is that you’ll tell no one that you’re a Creator. You saw how they reacted just at the memory of one who has been gone for a decade. Your situation is complicated enough without others knowing the truth. Agreed?”

  I grit my teeth but nod. I may be a monster, but that doesn’t mean I want people to be afraid of me.

  “The second is that you will commit yourself to the Exodus Project. That means training, which in turn means participation. You’ll be required to Speak. I can’t teach you how to control your ability if you refuse to open your mouth.”

  I look at him sharply. Control? That’s impossible. Monsters can’t be controlled. They can only be caged.

  Ward catches my look. “I’m not messing with you. You can learn how to control it. You just have to practice. If you submit to the training, you’ll eventually be able to turn your power on and off just like the rest of us. You’ll be able to have normal conversations, talk like a regular person. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Memories sail across my mind from a time long ago, a time of bubbly words and unending dialogue. When sentences fell freely from my lips only to be caught by the breeze, floating away into a harmless oblivion. Those memories are like dreams — impossible dreams of a long-distant past.

  “I know you want that,” he says, missing nothing. “I’ve seen you with Enzo and Cami. I’ve also seen you with Esther and the kids. You fight against forming attachments, but you still long for those relationships. It’s natural, your desire for companionship. My uncle was right about that. And the more you’ve been letting them all in, letting me in, the more your walls have been breaking down.”

  I have to turn my head to keep him from seeing the pain flash across my face.

  “I’ve seen you struggle not to talk,” he goes on. “I’ve watched you open your mouth only to snap it shut again. Just imagine how liberating it will be when you can talk about anything you want, at any time, with no fear of consequences. You can’t honestly tell me you don’t want that.”

  I hate him.

  I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

  Because he has me. And he knows it.

  “One way or another you’re going to be a part of the Exodus Project, because you know there’s no real alternative. Falon won’t allow it. Lengard won’t allow it. The question is, are you going to cooperate? Will you dedicate yourself to the training and learn how to control your power?” He pauses for effect, then finishes, “Are you going to Speak?”

  I know what he’s after. I don’t want to give it to him, but I need to know if what he’s saying is possible. If it’s true. Because I’d do anything to be a normal person again — even if that person is but a shadow of my old self. I’ve lost too much to ever be whole again.

  Warrior, I am not. Nor will I ever be. But I would be a fool to ignore the offer before me. Not if there is the slightest chance that he is right. So I give him what he wants, hoping he was telling the truth earlier about the glossy black walls protecting the rest of the world from whatever I can conjure with my words down here.

  “Yes, I’ll cooperate.”

  My voice is brittle and weak from lack of use, but Ward’s eyes flare with triumph, whether at my agreement or simply because I spoke out loud. He doesn’t appear cocky, though, which surprises me. Instead, an echo of the warmth I’m used to lights up his features, almost as if he’s pleased. Relieved, even.

  I remind myself that it’s only an act. I won’t allow myself to forget that. Never again.

  “Good,” he says. “We’ll start first thing tomorrow morning. What should we call you from now on?”

  I lift my shoulders and drop them again. “Whatever you want.”

  Even just the few words I’ve said so far make my heart feel lighter. Down here, protected by the Karoel walls in this small, dark room, I feel freer than I have for a long time. Until —

  “What I want is to call you by your real name.”

  Shaking my head, I quietly rasp out, “That’s not going to happen.”

  Ward’s voice is dangerously low. “Do I need to remind you that you just agreed to cooperate?”

  My throat is already beginning to sting, but I manage to say, “And I will. I’ll cooperate with whatever training you throw at me. But that’s all you get, so you might as well stick with ‘Jane Doe.’”

  Before he can argue, I add, “Here’s one last thing for you to think about, Landon.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken his name — the name he once told me to use, even if I’ve never considered him as anything other than “Ward.” I find vindictive pleasure in seeing him flinch at my tone. “You once told me that’s not who I am. That I’m not a Jane Doe. But like everything else you’ve said and done over the past month, I’m guessing that was a lie
, too.” He flinches again, his reaction telling enough to open a wound within me that will never heal. I swallow and finish, “You deserve a medal for your performance. I’d almost convinced myself that you actually cared.”

  I snap my mouth closed and ignore the raw, burning sensation from my screaming vocal cords. I won’t let on that I’m in any kind of pain — physical or emotional. He doesn’t get that from me, either.

  I force myself to maintain eye contact. The emotions on his face appear for a fraction of a second, barely enough time to register and fleeting enough that I doubt what I see. I could swear I see remorse. But that’s impossible, since he’s been Falon’s lapdog all along. I’m the fool here.

  And what’s worse is, from the very beginning, I knew better.

  “You said we start training tomorrow,” I say when it becomes clear that he’s not going to respond. “Does that mean we’re done for the night?”

  His face is blank once more, but he nods curtly. “I’ll take you back to your suite.”

  He turns, and I follow, releasing a silent breath of relief.

  “Remember not to Speak once you leave this room,” Ward says, stopping just before the door. “Until you learn how to control it, you still have to be careful.”

  As if I need the warning. Even if the impossible happens and I learn how to control myself, I’ll still be careful. Words are too precious to throw around carelessly. I don’t need to have a supernatural power over them to know that. I’ve seen it. Words demand respect. They are beautiful; they are terrible. They are a gift and a curse. I will never forget what they can do.

  Because words have cost me everything.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I’m sorry I left like I did.”

  Those are the words that greet me after Ward drops me at my suite and I step inside to find Cami curled up in a ball, nestled deep into the corner of the couch.

  “I didn’t — I couldn’t —” She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

  I cock my head to the side, wondering what, specifically, she’s sorry about. There are so many possibilities.

  “Someone should have told you. I should have told you.”

  At least if she’s going to apologize for anything, she’s jumping straight to the main event.

  “Please, will you sit down and let me explain? I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  I’m standing just inside the doorway, tense as a brick wall. But at her begging tone, I make myself move forward. I feel a pang of distress when I’m close enough to see her puffy red eyes, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and comfort her. I still don’t know if she was a part of Ward’s act from the beginning. This could just be some kind of new performance.

  “Do you remember that first day we met?” Cami asks, her voice quiet. “How we made pancakes and spent the day together? You were so guarded, Jane. So careful. You were damaged. You still are.” She says the last as a whisper, her words hitching at the end. “It’s this place. This stupid, awful place.”

  She scrubs a hand across her face, wiping away fresh tears. “Not the training rooms down below — they’re actually okay, if you can believe it. It’s everything up here that’s like something out of a nightmare.”

  She inhales a wobbly breath and continues, “They call it an ‘initiation,’ but it’s more like hazing. It’s where they bring potential Speakers when they first arrive at Lengard, so they can force them into a stressful environment to see how well they adapt. The potentials are tested, mentally and physically, until they break. Usually it only takes a few days. On the rare occasion, a couple of weeks. The longest anyone has ever lasted was four months. Until you. You’re … you’re special.”

  Special. That’s one word for it.

  “I heard whispers about you, you know, before we ever met,” Cami says. “All of us Exodus recruits knew about you — the silent girl who wouldn’t Speak. You stayed quiet for so long that we all doubted you could even talk at all. When I learned that Landon was working with you, I knew I had to meet you. I wanted to know how anyone could survive in this place, survive Vanik, for as long as you did — and that was before I discovered you were working with him directly.”

  The way she spits out Vanik’s name reminds me again that she has some kind of dark history with him. I want to find out what happened, but from my own experiences, I can already imagine what he might have done. I wonder how long Cami lasted before she “broke.”

  “You weren’t what I expected at all,” Cami goes on, still lost in her memories. “I thought you’d either be terrified of me or full of anger. You should have been dangerous. Violent, even. But you were none of those things. Instead, you were amazed by chocolate chips. You helped stir pancake batter. You sat at a table and let me force-feed you enough food for an army. Then you let me comfort you after you ran to the bathroom. And we spent the rest of the day together — as friends.”

  Cami reaches across and takes my hands in hers. I don’t return her grip, but I also don’t pull away.

  “That was real, Jane. All that was real. No matter what else you think, please, please believe me.”

  I don’t say anything — but then again, I can’t. Not without some kind of protection for my words. I’m not sure what I’d say anyway. I want to believe her. I really do.

  “I went to see Uncle Rick after I left you downstairs tonight,” Cami admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “He told me everything about what he asked Landon to do. I swear I didn’t know. I mean, I knew my brother was spending time with you, and I knew it was because Uncle Rick asked him to, but I didn’t know that it was all —”

  She breaks off and bites her lip, but she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, since I know exactly what she was going to say.

  Fake. It was all fake.

  “I know you probably think I was a part of it, too,” she says, instead. “But I promise, I wasn’t. I just wanted to be your friend. And I still do. If you’ll let me.”

  I can’t talk, but now more than ever I want to communicate with her. So I do something I haven’t done in all my time at Lengard, something I’ve refused to do for fear that not only my spoken words have power. I pull my hands from hers and reach for the notepad and pen on the coffee table. I scrawl out a sentence for the first time in years, pleased when my muscle memory kicks in enough to make the words legible, and thankful that I now know nothing bad can happen unless I Speak the question:

  Why didn′t you tell me?

  I watch her eyes travel over the ink once, then a second time. When she looks up at me, there is a slight wrinkle between her eyebrows.

  “Why didn’t I tell you?” she asks. “Do you mean about you possibly being a Speaker?”

  I nod firmly, and she runs a hand through her hair.

  “I know it sounds like a cop-out, but I wasn’t allowed,” she answers. “It’s against the rules. Normally, those of us in the Exodus Project aren’t supposed to have contact with potentials until they commit to the program — until they prove they can Speak. Enzo is the exception, since he can encourage newcomers to feel safe enough to reveal their powers. But your … circumstances … changed after Landon started working with you. If Vanik hadn’t nearly caused you brain damage that day, you and I never would have met the next morning. And the only reason you were allowed to move in with me was because I swore I wouldn’t say anything.”

  I make a face, unhappy with her answer.

  “Please believe me, Jane. I had to follow protocol. But I want you to know, I argued with Uncle Rick. I didn’t agree — I thought you deserved to be told the truth.”

  She shakes her head and finishes, “It’s too late now, anyway. I can’t take back the past, Jane. But I’m hoping you’ll let me make up for it in the future.”

  As much as I’m afraid to believe her, I still do. She has no reason to lie to me, not anymore. I’ve already agreed to cooperate. That gives me the confidence I need to reach out and take her hand
again. The moment I do, tears well in her eyes and she gives me a tremulous smile.

  “I promise I won’t keep anything from you again,” she swears. “I love my uncle and I love my brother, but I don’t agree with how they treated you. No one deserves that.”

  True. But I know that to make it through the next however long amount of training with Ward, I have to move past my hurt. If he can shut me out as quickly as he did, then I can do the same to him — or at least, act as if I can. From now on, he means nothing to me. He’s a means to an end — an end where I will hopefully learn to control the monstrous power in me so that no one ever gets hurt again.

  Me included.

  *

  Cami and I stay up late, huddled on the couch, eating copious amounts of comfort food and watching chick flicks until we both fall asleep.

  It’s only when a pounding on the door reaches my ears the next morning that I wake up with a start, the shock causing me to tumble off the edge of the couch. My sudden movement has a domino effect on Cami, who fell asleep on the other end, and she topples, as well. Somehow we end up tangled in a pile of cushions and pillows, and the more we try to move, the more we become wedged between the couch and the coffee table.

  I’m not sure if it’s Cami or me who starts it, but one of us lets out a snort of laughter, and then we’re both lost to the hilarity of the moment. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so freely and completely. I’d forgotten how good it feels.

  Cami and I are still on the ground, cheeks aching and tears streaming down our faces, when Enzo finds us, having let himself into the suite since neither of us were quick to open the door.

  “Do I want to know what’s going on here?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “Or should I let my imagination run wild?”

  “Neither,” Cami gasps. “What’re you doing here, Enz?”

  “Just dropped by to make sure you got JD down to training on time. Lando’s on a warpath, and he’ll rip into all of us if she’s late.”