by Sarah Noffke
“Stay out of my family affairs, Ren,” my mother snaps.
“Oh, that’s not going to happen since I do believe I’m a part of the family,” he says.
“Ren, you are not—”
“Our dear mummy would never have spoken to you that way,” Ren says, with a gloating look on his face.
My mother’s face is almost the same shade as her hair. It’s rare to see her so worked up and it’s taking everything I have to suppress the delight it gives me. “Don’t you talk to me about her!”
Ren smiles coolly. Looks extra pleased with himself. “You really still hate her, don’t you? And all because—”
“Shut up, Ren!” my mother yells again. I’ve never heard her so out of control, her voice not poised.
Ren pauses. Smiles again. This one is subtle. “All because—”
“Get out of here, Em.”
I nod and turn for the door.
“All because she’s a Middling,” Ren says in a rush.
I whip around and stare at my mother, who’s wearing a look of horror. Ren’s eyes are on me, a mischievous grin on his face. He rocks forward on his toes and then back on his heels a few times. “That’s right, luv, your grandmother was a Middling. Surprise.”
“REN!” my mother nearly screams through clenched teeth. “You have no right to—”
“The look on Em’s face confirms my suspicions,” he interrupts. “She doesn’t know. I bet no one knows you’re a half-blood, do they, Lyzie?”
I’m not sure where I get the gall, maybe from Ren’s display, but the words rush out of my mouth. “So I’m not a pure-blooded Dream Traveler?”
My mother turns on me. She whips her hand high in the air, a mean icy threat in her face like she’s seconds away from slapping me. It pauses in the air. She’s shaking. “You do not breathe a word of this to your father, is that understood?” she says, a threat in her voice.
I stare at her hand raised in front of me and then to her cold, burning eyes.
“Do you understand?” she screams.
“Why would I tell him anything?” I say, unable to keep the disgust out of my voice.
“Don’t you disrespect your father, Em.”
“Oh, Lyza,” Ren says, daring to push my mother’s hand back down. And he steps in front of me. “That’s quite a statement for you to make.”
“Damien is worth respecting, unlike our father who married a Middling,” she’s says like it’s a repulsive thought.
“Our father married for love, which I think is rather respectable. It’s much more honorable than seeking status in a bogus society,” Ren says.
“No one asked you what you think.”
“Actually, President Vider did.” Ren turns and looks at me, then walks to the exit. “And to answer your original question, Lyza, Em has displayed zero signs of receiving her gift. Such a shame, this one.”
Chapter Sixteen
The old camping area, where we spent many a summer night, is now overgrown, with no direct paths leading to it. This is probably because the Parks department decided a couple of years ago to close off access to this part of the hills, encouraging citizens to hike down lower, closer to the stream. This means Rogue’s camping grounds are perfect for keeping him tucked away from the general public. Bad for me, as I’m constantly having to finagle my way through dense brush and tangled vines. I’m not used to hiking off the path. It’s actually illegal.
If it wasn’t for Rogue’s blue denim shirt, then I wouldn’t have spotted the campsite. His tent is built into an arch of trees and camouflages perfectly into the woods. A small area to the side has been cleared away of brush and leaves. That’s where he has the campfire set up. That’s also where Rogue sits. Hunched over, face bent to his knees, hands covering his head. He’s rocking slightly. Wait, not rocking…he’s convulsing. I push through the overgrowth faster now, ten yards still dividing me from Rogue. The way he sits, the way he moves, is all wrong. And then a muffled yelp of pain falls out of his mouth, like someone stuck a sock in his mouth and then cut off his pinky.
Thorns tear my clothes, scratch my calves and ankles, but I keep moving until I reach him. I expected to arrive and find him bleeding or see an object to blame for his obvious pain, but the area around him is empty. I expect him to notice me, even just a little bit, but he stays crouched over. Shuddering.
“Rogue!” I say, reaching for his head cradled in his hands. “Are you all right?”
He jerks away. Not looking at me. Keeping his eyes covered by his arms.
“Rogue,” I say again, afraid to touch him, but not satisfied by only sitting next to him, not doing anything. I place my hand on his back and rub, watching him burying his head deeper into his arms and knees. Biting down on the pain. The areas of his face I can see are splotched with red. Obviously he’s battling a pain so great in his head that he can’t speak, can’t even look at me. Otherwise he’d probably tell me properly to leave him alone. I can tell by the way he’s moved away from my hand that he would prefer for me not to be here. Rogue never liked anyone to see him in pain. He’d gone to great lengths to hide injuries and now I realize again he’s hiding.
For ten minutes I sit beside him, only touching him that once. The pain in him goes from the searing, screaming pain I walked up on to a slower, more stubborn one. Toward the end he’s only groaning, a soft sound that still accurately communicates the discomfort. And still his hands never move away from his face. His arms cradle his head, sometimes his fingers going white by the pressure. Shallow breaths finally replace his painful moans. Shaking replaces the convulsions. And I’m surprised when he pulls his head out of hands and lays it on my shoulder. He takes exasperated breaths, seeming to breathe through smaller bouts of pain. With the weight of his head on my shoulder and a confounding turn of events, I have a hard time determining what to do. How to help him. I finally reach out and grab his hand. Instantly he holds on to it like a person clasping onto the rope thrown over the cliff to rescue them. I return his pressure with my own firm grip. “It’s okay, Rogue,” I whisper against his head. “You’re all right. I’m here.”
I don’t know what I’m here for, but I guess it shouldn’t really matter. Something’s hurting Rogue, something he’s struggling to battle. Then like a clear, winter’s wind it hits me, blowing me over more with its cold than its momentum. “Rogue, they did this to you, didn’t they?” He doesn’t stir from my shoulder, but I feel his breath pause. “Your father…”
Rogue pulls his head away from my shoulder, leaving a patch of sweat where it had been. His hair is stuck to his brow in places, curling wildly in other places from the moisture. Red eyes etched with exhaustion catch mine. His elbows rest now on his knees. And I have a feeling he’d prefer to be lying down now.
“Or emptying the contents of my stomach,” Rogue says, his voice mostly a growl.
“What?” Why did he just say that?
“You thought I’d prefer to be laying down right now. You’re right, but I’m also hella nauseous,” he says.
“Wait? What? You’re telepathic now?”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says, taking a steadying breath. “It’s just after an episode everything heightens. I’m telepathic, telekinetic, clairvoyant, and a whole bunch of other things, but only the first few minutes afterwards.”
“You can lie down,” I say, indicating his tent. “I’ll stay close by and watch over you.”
Rogue takes a swig from the water canteen by his feet. Shakes his head. “I’m not laying down and you should just leave. You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“But I did see it and I want to know what’s wrong with you,” I say.
He gives me a tired look. Pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. “Em, don’t be offended when I tell you to mind your own business.”
“Don’t be offended when I tell you to stuff it.”
“Oh, you’re such a beautiful pain the in ass,” he says, pushing to a standing position. “Now, what brings you to my neck
of the woods?” he says, trying to inject lightness into his strained voice.
“Zack will be here soon. We wanted to see you.”
Rogue walks off a few paces and turns to me, staring at the dirt-covered ground. Nods.
“Tell me what they did to you. Tell me how I can help,” I say, taking a few steps closer to him.
He shakes his head. Gives me an annoyed look. “It was a headache, Em. People in the real world, who don’t have mega vitamins and unnatural chemicals, get ’em. That’s all.”
“Bullshit. I may not know much about the world, but I know what just happened to you isn’t normal.” I pause and stare at him; he’s actually stunning when he’s being stubborn, like a cat.
“You know nothing, Em. Just forget about it.”
“Look, you can pretend I’m naïve, but I think they did this to you. Actually, I know it, so let me help.”
“You can’t,” he says, not rejecting my claim. “If you do then you’re gonna put yourself in danger.”
“I’m already putting myself in danger. I can make my own decisions. Today was the first day in over three years I didn’t have an injection. I beat the system,” I say proudly.
“Damn it, Em!” he yells so loud a flock of nearby birds takes flight. His face burns red. “That’s what causes the headaches. You can’t just stop getting the injections.”
“But you told me—”
“And I told you not to do anything drastic!”
“So that’s why you get the headaches?” I say, piecing it all together. “How do we stop them?”
“Keep taking the injections for one,” he says with a growl, looking like he’s about to pounce on me for my stupidity. He shakes his head. “But since that’s not an option for me, there’s a med they make.”
“That’s why you’re back, isn’t it? To get the drug?” I say.
“Yes, but I can’t find it. They’ve moved or hidden it,” he says. “Maybe they figured out someone was stealing it every several months. Maybe my father knows it’s me. I’ve been through the lab a dozen times and can’t find it. But I know how my father thinks and the people he employs think the way he tells them, so I’ll find it. Then no more headaches.”
“Well, I’ll help you find it,” I say.
“No you won’t. I don’t want you involved,” he counters.
“I’m going to do it anyway. If you don’t allow my help then I’ll probably get careless. Then I’ll get caught. And it will be because you didn’t involve me and allow me to help properly.”
“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” he says, no lightness in his voice. All irritation.
“I’m going to help you, Rogue. Involve me. I’ve already gone off the injections. I’ll need to find this medicine anyway.”
“Em, you need to go to the labs now and get your injection. Don’t go down this path. It’s not one I want for you.”
“You, my father, and your father don’t get to choose my path. It’s mine to decide. My gift is surfacing, my Skills Assessor confirmed it. I’d rather die than give up what rightfully belongs to me.”
“You don’t get that you might die,” he says in a hush, his words haunted. “That’s how serious this is. They’ve been giving you those injections a lot longer than they gave them to me. You don’t just quit them cold turkey, not without sending your body into seizures. You really want that more than some stupid gift?”
I watch him move, pace. Watch his anxious hands push through his hair. I watch him look me over, like at any moment I might convulse with a seizure. I shake my head, resign a little. “No. To hell with my gift. What I want is to help you. To get whatever this medicine is that will fix you. That’s what I want more than anything else.”
“No, Em,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Yes, Rogue,” I say, matching him.
“I think you should leave. Stay away from me.”
“Because I’m trying to help you? That’s ridiculous!” I yell.
“Yes, because you’re trying to help me! And you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so just deal with it.”
“Leave,” he says, a quiet warning in his voice, his hands balled by his side.
“No!” I fire back.
“Em, if you don’t get out of this—”
“You’ll what? What are you going to do? Kiss me?” I actually laugh, knowing I have Rogue where I want him. He’s powerless.
A dark shadow falls on his face. He brings his green eyes up to meet mine, and they pair with a threatening grin. “Maybe.”
My heart shudders, but I force myself to stand tall. Take another step forward. “Well, as awful as that sounds, I’m not leaving. I’m not forgetting you need help.”
“I’d reconsider your judgment on this. I’m a sloppy kisser.”
“Do your worst,” I say, trying to sound bold, brave. Relentless. I take another challenging step in his direction, daring to separate us by inches. “I’m not leaving.”
Rogue’s eyes swivel down on me, a strange expression in them. Disbelief maybe. He sucks in a breath. Pauses a few inches away, seeming to measure my resolve.
His fingers find my chin, angle it up. And he leans down, his warmth blanketing me. My eyes close just as Rogue’s lips close on mine. All my dreams and realities and strange alter realities rush until they meet this one. The one where I’m kissing a guy who should be dead. The boy I’ve loved all my life, but never thought of in this way. In a way in which I’d press my lips again and again to his. Take breaths that smell of him. Encircle him in my arms. This moment is beyond surreal and also feels good enough to be a dream. My fingers reach up and slide through his loose hair. He slips back only an inch and squints down at me, since the afternoon sun is at my back. “Awful, huh?” He’s close, but I still spy the grin on his mouth.
“The worst,” I say, tracing my fingers down his neck, my hand stopping on his chest.
“I warned you,” Rogue says and leans down and kisses me again, each one so tender and slow, I lose my place in it. I lose myself in him. He kisses me exactly how I feared, in a way that makes me want more.
I step back, despite my desire, and give him a punishing stare. “Don’t think I forgot why you just kissed me.”
“Because I wanted to,” he says, stepping closer.
“And also you wanted to distract me from the argument we’re having.”
“Or I just wanted to.” There’s a tempting heat in his eyes. I almost let him pull me to him, but I pivot away.
“I’m still helping you,” I say, a defiance I learned from him in my tone.
“Helping with what?” a voice calls from a few yards away.
“Zack!” Rogue says without the same hint of nervousness I feel. He takes a few long strides and throws his arm around Zack’s shoulder. “How’s my favorite friend doing?” They walk until they’re back to my side and then Zack breaks off to inspect the camping area. Rogue turns and whispers in my ear. “That’s not true, you’re really my favorite.”
“Of course I am,” I say under my breath, smiling at him. “How many times you kissed Zack?”
Zack turns, giving me a strange look over his shoulder like he heard but also misheard what I whispered to Rogue.
“How many times have you and I kissed, brother?” Rogue says, throwing his arm around Zack’s shoulder again. “I’ve lost track, myself.” Then Rogue plants a kiss on Zack’s cheek, which Zack wipes away looking only half disgusted.
“Oh, you scorn me.” Rogue grabs his chest like he’s suddenly pained. “You shouldn’t wipe away my love. Em knows better.” Rogue turns to me and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek, lingering a few seconds too long. My eyes flick up to Zack’s just as Rogue pulls away and drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Now don’t wipe that off or I’ll put you in a headlock, Em,” he warns.
My face is hot, my eyes unable to hold the evolution of confusion growing in Zack’s expression. I twist out of Ro
gue’s arm and stand in a spot a safe distance between him and Zack.
“I think Rogue has something he should tell you.” I turn to Rogue. “Tell him about the injections. Zack will have a better time with it. He’s not on this list. And maybe he can help you.”
Through clenched teeth Rogue says, “I don’t want help. You two shouldn’t get mixed up in this.”
“What would you do in our position?” I say, hands firmly planted on my hips.
“Would the two of you stop and just tell me what’s going on?” Zack says, looking impatient.
***
“Em, why in the world would you think once I knew this all it would affect me less?” Zack says, his eyes having grown heartbroken as he learned the news. “They’re not doing it to me, they’re doing it to you. That’s worse. Rogue’s right though, you shouldn’t have gone off the injections.”
I roll my eyes at the two of them. They love to gang up on me.
“And also, Em, Rogue is right about another thing. We just need to think on this. Nothing drastic.” Zack holds my eyes, a stubborn weight in his expression. “And you’re not leaving.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I know that’s what you’re planning,” Zack says, a firmness in his tone. “I know how your brain works. You’re staying and we’re facing this together. Quietly though.”
He’s right. I’d been thinking about it. I shrug, not meeting his eyes.
“First things first, we need to find the med—”
“No,” Rogue protests.
“Yes, Rogue,” Zack argues. “If you’re suffering we have to help. But we’ll be careful. We won’t get caught. I can check inventory for the labs. Em, keep your eyes open while you’re there. And you, Rogue, lay low. No more strolls through the park.” Zack is good at this. A born leader, for sure.
Rogue looks at me, a not-so-serious expression on his face. Then he turns, stands tall, and salutes Zack. “Yes, President Conerly.”
Zack shakes his head, but smiles still.
“I love you, brother,” Rogue says, relaxing, clapping a hand on Zack’s shoulder.
Everything feels better now that Zack is involved, like we have a chance. I’m not sure what we have a chance at, but it will be better than where we are, because I can’t watch Rogue have another of those attacks.
