Proving that he knows me nearly as well as I know myself, Logan doesn’t expand on that statement or probe me for my views. “I want to exist as one with you,” he says quietly.
His words are profound in their simplicity. And in that moment, it’s exactly what I need to hear.
CHAPTER 28
The hostile stares start the minute we leave the apartment building the next morning. Haydn and Logan shelter me between them as we emerge onto campus grounds. Most people keep a wide berth. Some are clearly terrified, others appear happy to feign ignorance, while some exhibit definite stupid-brave traits.
“Weirdos!”
“Alien-lover!”
“Freaks!”
“Alien-slut!”
“E.T., phone home!”
“I bet they look like gross, giant, ugly bugs beneath their human skin,” one guy says in a deliberately brash tone.
“Yo! People!” I shout out at the top of my lungs, clearly having reached my tipping point. “We got a bug in the electrical system!”
A few heads turn in my direction, mouths agape. Haydn snickers as Logan basically tumbles over himself in shock. “Did you just quote Will Smith?”
“I did,” I admit proudly.
He swings me around, my legs twirling through the air. His infectious laughter surrounds me and I join in. When he grounds me, his lips rapidly find mine and my arms wrap firmly around his neck. “I love you,” he says in between kisses.
“I know,” I reply feebly.
The hostility intensifies ten-fold after our PDA, but I silently stick two-fingers to the world.
I’m like the living embodiment of a terminal illness for the remainder of the day. Most every class I attend, people avoid me without trying to disguise it. It has certain advantages. Like when I enter the cafeteria with Logan—totally ravenous—and the line magically evaporates on the spot. Neat. Or when I dash to the ladies—bladder bursting at the seams—and the room clears in seconds.
Fern is the only person who dares to sit beside Haydn and me in class. Her new—as it turns out alien—boyfriend, Rylan, joins us for some sessions. He only told her the truth last night, but she’s handling it super well.
Concern for her wellbeing propels me into immediate action. “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”
She harrumphs. “No. Definitely not.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “Don’t. Trust me, it’s important. Actually, screw that. Promise me you won’t.” I know I’ve no right to demand that of her, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit by and watch another friend die. She twists in her seat and pins me with a curious look. “There’s a good reason behind my request. I can’t explain yet, but as soon as I can I will.”
She locks her hands behind her head and leans back. “You don’t have anything to worry about in that regard.” She looks as miserable as sin. “Rylan’s very hands-off. I don’t think he’s attracted to me.”
“That’s not it.” I vigorously shake my head. “All it means is that he’s one of the good guys. Believe me, it means he likes you a lot.”
My words bring a smile to her lips. I squeeze her hand. She’ll be all right. Rylan doesn’t want to hurt her.
“So,” Fern says, switching subjects. “Is Logan like a prince or something?” Of course, she already knows Logan’s true identity thanks to the president’s naming and shaming last night.
“Yeah,” I admit, whipping a pink tie off my wrist and yanking my hair into a ponytail. “Actually, he’s next in line to the throne.”
“Get out!” Fern says, excitement bubbling to the surface. “That’s awesome!”
Without thinking about it, I reach over and hug her something fierce. She looks perplexed. “All I’ve heard all day so far is a variation of ‘alien-lover’ and ‘alien-slut,’” I explain, “so I love your enthusiasm!”
She lifts her fist and we knuckle touch. Haydn looks at us as if we are the alien life forms. I’m on the verge of telling Fern about Jenna when I pull back. I don’t know how to explain it without arousing suspicion. Besides, it’s too raw and I’m not sure I can talk about her without breaking down.
With all that’s going on, I have to compartmentalize, and while I dislike relegating my friend’s passing to the back of my mind, it’s the only choice I have if I’m to remain fully functional. Deliberately forcing Jenna from my thoughts doesn’t mean I don’t care or she didn’t mean something to me. Because she did.
Haydn—in a very human-like gesture—kisses the top of my head. These aliens are more intuitive than anyone is giving them credit for.
Of course, the irony is that there are hundreds more undetected aliens mingling in the halls. While tension and suspicion laces the air and apprehensive looks are traded all day, most people are unable to pinpoint who is human and who is alien. Part of me shudders at how easily they’ve secretly infiltrated our ranks, while another part of me is enthralled at how naturally they’ve adapted to our world.
“I’m inventing a new game,” I tell Fern and the boys as we sit in isolation in the corner of the cafeteria. “It’s called spot the alien.” Haydn rolls his eyes as Fern snickers.
“That g—” Logan says, gesturing toward a longhaired dude sitting three tables away.
“Not you!” I nudge him. “Duh! As if you couldn’t tell your own kind. This is a game strictly for humans.” I hold my head in the air projecting superiority. Fern titters into her spaghetti.
“No fair,” Logan says, mock pouting. “I don’t like being left out.”
“What? Are you like three years old?”
His eyes crinkle with mischief. “Let’s make this a little more interesting.” He winks and certain parts of my anatomy spark to life. “A reward for each one you correctly identify and a punishment if you fail.”
There’s no denying the seductive implication behind his words. Hells. Now those scandalous parts of my anatomy are jumping up and down for joy.
I lean into him and his hungry eyes fixate on me. “What’s the reward?”
“A kiss.”
Haydn chokes on his lunch as Fern hollers her approval.
“And the punishment?” My eyes glisten with anticipation.
Logan inches forward, his mouth millimeters from mine. We stare openly, entranced in each other and the moment.
My head jolts back as something cold and hard slams into my temple. A buzzing, fizzing noise surrounds me as I’m blanketed in a drizzle of sticky liquid. Logan slams his palms on the Formica top and swings his legs clean over the table. He moves with remarkable grace and speed advancing toward a bunch of hooting boys a few tables away. One of them clearly threw it at me.
Fern retrieves the empty soda can and thumps it on the table. She extracts a wad of paper towels from her bag and hands them to me. Haydn hovers, debating whether to stay or go. I watch Logan as he raises his fists, ready to go into battle in my honor. “Stop him. Go.” Standing up, I shove Haydn in his direction. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dante standing off to the side. A triumphant smile teases his lips. My fellow students are riled up enough without Dante manipulating their minds. I stomp toward him without hesitation.
As I approach, Haydn clamps his arm around Logan in an attempt to restrain him. I walk past them and rush Dante. “What the hell? Isn’t it enough that you killed my best friend?!”
A flash of pain skitters across his face. “I didn’t want that to happen to her.”
I fasten my hands on my hips. “What? Now you care?”
“I always cared.” He rests his foot against the wall. “You shouldn’t trust him, you know.” He points at Logan. “He’ll screw you over too. He always hurts those he loves.”
“You expect me to believe anything that comes out of your mouth? You’re a loser, Dante. Once a loser, always a loser.” I walk away before I do or say something I’ll regret.
Logan pulls me to him as Fern appears carrying both our book bags. The group of guys who were rowdy a few minutes ago is looking fearfu
lly at Logan and Haydn. I catch a few hostile looks but this group looks scared in the main.
“For the record,” I say, gesturing toward Haydn and Logan. “These are the good guys. If you want to let your inner alien hatred run wild, please direct it at his kind.” I motion toward Dante who is surveying the scene safely from the sidelines.
I sense Logan’s anger as we make our exit. The entire cafeteria is ghostly quiet and all eyes track our movements. When we push through the double doors out into the hall, I release a strangled breath.
“Are you okay, Sadie?” Logan asks in a carefully controlled voice.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing a shower and a change of clothes won’t cure.”
“They humiliated you.” A muscle pops in his jaw.
Reaching out, I smooth my thumb over his cheek and try to ease his tension. “No they didn’t. They tried to. But it only works if I let them have that power over me. I’m not going to and you shouldn’t either.”
***
Haydn escorts me back to my apartment to change. Logan has been summoned to an emergency meeting with his father. I practically had to push him out the door such was the strength of his reluctance to leave. Making an on-the-spot executive decision, I choose to stay away from campus for the afternoon. Despite my earlier fighting spirit, I’m not sure I have what it takes to voluntarily head back for round two.
Standing in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear, brings an image of Jenna to the forefront of my mind with an anguished pang. She picked out most of these clothes for me. Tears prick my eyes but I force them away. I can’t afford to give into my grief.
My fingers wander to the knee-length floral summer dress that has sat unworn in my closet for weeks. It’s not my normal style, but Jenna insisted I buy it. She said it brought out the hidden blue in my gray eyes. I slip the dress off the hanger and shimmy it down over my head. Though the day is sunny and bright, as usual, it’s not quite warm enough for spaghetti straps. I locate a delicate white cardigan and shove my arms into it.
Stepping barefoot into the living area, I acknowledge Haydn, and he gives me an appreciative look. “Um, you look pretty, Sadie.”
“Thanks.” I beam at him. Walking into the kitchen, I swipe the pitcher of juice from the refrigerator and two glasses from the cupboard. I set them on the coffee table and sit down on the couch. Haydn pours us both a drink.
The cool liquid slips down my throat. A ping on the screen captures my attention. I switch it on, noting the myriad of messages from Jarod. Locating my comm-clip, I quickly call him. He talks animatedly in garbled sentences without pausing. “Hang on, Jarod. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Alone?”
“Haydn is here.”
He mutters something incoherent. “I’m coming over. There’s something I need to show you. Be there in an hour.”
I wear a path in the floor with my pacing while I wait for Jarod to show up. Logan arrives before him. He’s in a foul mood but he won’t, or can’t, tell either of us what’s wrong. He takes a shower while Haydn and I exchange worried looks. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not getting a good feeling about any of this.”
“I know,” Haydn agrees.
Jarod arrives a few minutes later, visibly agitated. We three stand awkwardly in a circle in the center of the room. Then Logan steps into the living room in a plain black collarless jersey shirt and dark denims with his hair wet from the shower. Little beads of water cling to his neck and face.
He looks at me as if for the first time today. Slinging an arm around my waist, he places his chin atop my head. “You look beautiful.” I love his confidence and maturity, that he has no qualms about saying such things in front of an audience.
Jarod smirks before looking away. I hate that he thinks it’s part of an act, and I resolve to set him straight at the first opportunity. He links a private feed to the screen and taps in a code on command. “I copied this off a secure government internal news feed earlier today,” he says in a roughened voice. “You need to see it.”
The screen flickers to life and we gape at the horrific images projected from the streets of New York. The picture flits between the different sectors.
In the Outer Circle—my old stomping ground—chaos and mayhem rain. Looters break through storefront windows, sending torrents of glass flying in all directions. Desperate, scared people pilfer everything in sight, watched despairingly by the helpless storeowners. Row upon row of armed police—of the human, part-robotic, and fully cloned type—streams uniformly into the various sectors unleashing a flurry of indiscriminate bullets. Bodies smash to the pavement as screams spear the nighttime air.
Residents dangle precariously out of windows of the surrounding high-rise buildings, throwing bricks and other debris at the trigger-happy police below. Protestors climb up poles, jump on the roofs of cars, and sit on top of trashcans, as they spout anti-alien and anti-government sentiments at anyone who will listen.
In the Midi Circle, the streets are eerily quiet, as people stay safe in their homes. A few houses in the residential suburbs exhibit hastily constructed homemade signs with various anti-alien statements. “E.T. Go. Home.” is a popular one. Along with, “Let’s kick some alien butt.”
In the Core Circle, rioters and protestors line the pavements outside the main government buildings in their thousands. The commentator describes the influx of lower-class protestors to the streets of the precious inner city as a stage-managed class invasion, and an affront to society and mankind. I laugh mirthlessly. Hands grip hostile banners, and I spot the telltale star tattoos on many wrists, as well as several silver coins.
I’ve never known the middle classes to throw their lot in with us in the Outer Circle. And while the scenes are disturbing, they are also hopeful. We’re on the brink of historic change, and this could be the moment when our world alters irrevocably.
“Switch if off,” Logan snaps.
Jarod’s eyes narrow to slits but he cuts the feed. Logan rubs his temples repeatedly before flopping down on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. “I saw more of the same earlier. The government is announcing disbandment of ‘The Experimento’ in the morning. Everyone is being moved above ground in the coming days.”
Reaching out, he snags me into his lap. “The majority are being deposited back home for now, but the government is offering them monetary incentives to help plead their case in their local Sectors. Others, like you and Jarod, will be assigned to government roles to help create strategies to restore peace.”
Jarod harrumphs and Logan stares quizzically at him.
“What about you? What’ll you be doing?” I twist in his lap.
He grits his teeth. “It appears I’ll be on the road. The president wants to organize pro-government pro-alien rallies in key cities around the country, and he plans on assisting my father in negotiating similar alliances with your neighboring countries.” He huffs in disgust and I wonder what details he’s left out of that little speech. It sounds like a long road trip, and I’m not liking the idea of that.
Jarod looks puzzled. I wish I could communicate telepathically with him so I could throw an “I told you so” into the mix.
“How long will you be away?” I’m already devastated at the likelihood of imminent separation. We’ve only properly united and now he’s being snatched out of my arms?
He presses his forehead to mine. “I don’t know. Hopefully, not too long.”
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” He gives an imperceptible nod.
Jarod asks me to walk him back to his apartment, but quickly changes his mind once Logan moves to go with me. They get into it pretty much straightaway. Logan explains the necessity for my security detail, but Jarod still flounces out of the apartment in a sour mood.
I don’t mind though. I’m certain he wants to grill me on what else I know and I’m all kinds of keen to avoid that
conversation.
Having been cooped up in the apartment all afternoon, I beg Logan to come to the diner for dinner. A few kisses later and he’s putty in my hands. I try to smother my smug grin but fail miserably.
“I think this is what the humans mean when they say ‘under the thumb,’” Haydn says.
I roar laughing and it feels so damned good. Logan shrugs good-naturedly. “If that’s the case, sign me up for a lifetime.”
How he always knows the singular most perfect thing to say is astounding. It’s more than a talent. He gets me. Every single time.
Stretching up on my tippy toes, I kiss him languidly, pouring everything of myself into that one soul-searing kiss.
A light rap on the door interrupts the moment.
“Thank the stars,” Haydn says, opening the door to Neve. “I think I’ll hurl if I have to be around these lovesick fools for much longer.”
“Hey! Don’t hate!” I mock pout.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Logan teases.
Neve yanks me out of Logan’s arms into hers. The scent of lavender and apple blossom wafts around me. “You doing okay?”
“I’m hanging in there.” I give her a tight smile.
Logan threads his fingers in mine and squeezes. “We have a date,” he tells Neve, pulling me out the door. “We’ll catch you guys later.”
***
Logan is taking in every minute detail of the diner as we wait for the waitress to deliver our food. His head turns this way and that as he drinks it all in. I slurp noisily as I suck up Coke through a straw. Logan tickles my side.
“Do you have diners on Saven?” I ask him on a whim. I know next to nothing about his home planet.
“We do. But we call them ‘kezo’ and they are all self-serve. No one waits on anyone on Saven.”
Saven Deception Page 36
