by Cody Wagner
That’s when a new thought occurred to me. Even if Sanctuary got to Mr. Cooke, what could they have done to him? Did they have a way to cure someone under control? Also, did Mr. Cooke do anything negative to Sanctuary while he was here? I sighed. There were too many unanswered questions.
That’s when I realized there was one thing I could learn.
I took off running for what felt like the hundredth time in two days. The air was freezing again, so I pulled my sweatshirt up over my mouth as I passed the auditorium.
This time, I stopped just after rounding the Admissions Building. Wolcott’s car still sat about seventy-five feet away in the parking lot. From what I could see, no one was around. But that didn’t mean they weren’t watching. I needed an excuse.
Taking a huge breath, I scooped up some snow and rolled it into a snowball. The car seemed far, but I aimed and let the snowball fly. Luckily, it crashed into Wolcott’s tire.
I took off running again and skidded into the drivers’ side door. Then I bent down and pretended to observe the tire for damage. On my way up, I peeked at the handle. The note was gone.
My lungs seized up. Sanctuary knew. They had to know. My heart started ramming in my chest, and I wanted to run away screaming. But I had to finish my ridiculous act.
I stood up, turned to no one, and said, “You’re lucky, Jake! There’s no damage!”
Then, I waited a second, and as if responding to my invisible friend, said, “No, it’s fine. But let’s get out of here!”
Now it was time to run and hide again. I had the feeling I’d be doing lots of it in the near future.
Seventeen
Heartbreak
The next few days had me in a huge jumble of nerves, but Mr. Cooke didn’t return, Sanctuary didn’t go up in a puff of smoke, and Wolcott didn’t come beating down my door. That was the good news. The bad news was I didn’t hear a word from my family. Normally, I wouldn’t have stressed it. But we left things on such a sour note, I couldn’t help but imagine them increasing their involvement with Zimmerman’s Zealots just to spite me. On Christmas Eve morning, just when I thought they might put me up for adoption, a guy from down the hall banged on my door.
“Blaize! You have a call in the foyer.”
I bolted upright in bed.
“Who is it?” The last time I’d talked on the foyer phone was last year, and it hadn’t gone well. At all.
“It’s someone named Molly.”
I looked over at Cassie, who stared blankly at the wall. Apparently feeling my eyes on her, she snapped out of her trance and gestured at the door. “Go talk to her!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Jumping down from my bed, I ran to the lobby without even putting my shoes on. The ancient foyer phone—white with a long curly cord—sat on a table next to a couple of chairs. I sat and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi, dork!” she screamed.
I held the phone away from my ear and said, “Loud!” But I started laughing. It’s like Molly knew to say something light.
My body relaxed a bit, and I sat back in the chair. “Merry Christmas, you nerd.”
“You too. What are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Missing your face.”
“I miss you, too.” From out of nowhere, she started bawling and talking a million miles an hour at the same time. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you. Mom didn’t tell me when they were going and she did this stupid party for me at Grammy’s. I didn’t know what was going on and they must have been packing in secret and then they were gone and then—”
“Calm down,” I said, smiling. “This isn’t your fault. You did your best. And you’re only seven.” Inwardly, I told myself I probably would have fallen for their tricks now, at fifteen. Molly was more perceptive than I.
She hiccupped. “I didn’t think they’d leave without me.” After a pause, she said, “I’ll never forgive them.”
I sighed as the implications of what she’d said sank in. “You have to.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re your parents.” I cringed as the words fell out. I hated that saying. In my opinion, blood was not thicker than water. Why love or forgive someone just because you’re related? Actions speak louder than family trees.
But the words felt true in my head, and from out of nowhere, I started sharing some of the memories I’d thought about in the bathroom after Mom and Dad left.
When I finished, I said, “That’s why you have to forgive them. They’re not bad people.”
I think Molly wanted to hear that, because she said, “They told me to call you today.”
I stared at the phone for a second. “They did?”
“Yeah. Mom’s been upset since they got back. And she gave me the phone this morning.”
I shook my head. “Wow.”
“So you have to forgive them, too, I guess.”
I laughed. “Was this whole thing a setup?”
“What’s a setup?”
“Never mind.” I paused for a second, marveling at Molly. Whether it was intentional or not, she’d made her point.
“Tell them thanks,” I said. “And that I love them.”
“OK,” she said.
After that, we sank into our usual, wacky conversations. I figured Mom or Dad would interrupt, but they let us talk for almost an hour. When Molly and I said our goodbyes, they didn’t even grab the phone. It’s like they wanted to let me know they weren’t supervising the call. It made me feel good, and for once, I insisted on talking to them before hanging up. We only chatted a few minutes, but I could tell we repaired a little of the damage. I even hummed Christmas carols back to my room.
I passed the rest of the day by distracting myself with Cassie. Unlike last year, I remembered to get her a present. While she appreciated the random gift basket I put together this year—complete with gum and lots of lip balm—Cassie was seriously upset and still stared off at nothing. A couple days earlier, she read the same page from a book for an hour. After giving her some space, I returned to find her on the exact same page. She didn’t even attend the White Elephant Party Sanctuary threw for students who’d remained in the dorms.
I decided not to say anything to her through Christmas. Call it true “Blaize” mentality, but I thought she’d come around and talk when she felt like it. By December 27th, though, I couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, she became so skittish. Since Mr. Cooke left, she involuntarily flinched anytime someone walked too close to her. We were way overdue for an honest conversation.
That night, when I climbed into bed, Cassie was staring off at nothing yet again. Her expression was sad and distant. When she caught me watching her, she grabbed her sheet and pulled it over her head, retreating back into a cocoon.
Her being withdrawn wasn’t going to stop me this time. I had to talk to her, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. The last thing I needed right now was my mouth diarrhea. Suddenly, a strange idea hit. Reaching down, I grabbed my own sheet and pulled it over my head. Now we were both in cocoons. I could talk and give her privacy at the same time.
“Cassie.”
After a few seconds, she said, “Yes.”
I decided to open with a compliment. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”
In my mind’s eye, I could see her blush. Her voice was still withdrawn, though, when she said, “I thought it was Roze.”
I pulled off my sheet and looked at her. She was still covered, but her head pointed in my direction. In the dark, with faint moonlight pouring through the window, she looked like a mousy ghost. Remaining as quiet as possible, I pulled my sheet back over my head and said, “Both of you are my best friends.” I adjusted the sheet a bit. “But you’re the only person I can talk to. About anything.”
There was another pause before she said, “Thank you.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
I sat for a minute, pulling the sheet back and forth. The rustle comforted me as I debated how to procee
d. Finally, I said, “Your parents don’t define you, you know.”
“I know.”
“You’re so much better than they are.”
“OK.”
“And I don’t want to see them get the best of you.”
I heard her shift. “Me either.”
Those words were a little stronger. It made me feel better, so I said, “You can come stay with me in Pamata anytime, you know. Just say the word.” I thought of my situation at home and the fight I’d had with my parents. Although they’d let Molly call me, I found myself saying, “It’ll suck, I’m sure.”
Cassie hiccupped out a laugh. I admit I cracked myself up and laughed, too. It didn’t last long, but it was nice. I sat up, and through the sheet, looked at Cassie. It was hard to see, but I could make out her ghost mound. She was sitting up, too, and I imagined her watching me. Thinking of us sitting there like two Caspers made me like Cassie even more. She never judged me, and we could be totally weird around each other. The thought made me mad again. She didn’t deserve the situation she was in. I guess that’s what made me say, “If your dad ever hurts you again, I will hunt him down.”
It was a totally lame statement, something fathers say to their daughter’s boyfriends. But I wanted to let her know she had someone here looking out for her.
Cassie didn’t respond for a long time. Her ghost body stayed upright and unmoving. I didn’t know what that meant, but I said, “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
“He hasn’t done that in a long time.”
I froze. The last thing I expected was for her to talk about her dad. Was his hitting her a side effect of the Siren’s orders? And if he abused her for the first time in a while, was he only recently put under the Siren’s control? I stifled a gasp as another thought hit: If he abused her years ago, was he under control then, too?
I had no idea. It all came down to how much of his personality was his own versus the Siren’s orders. I was going to have to look into it some more.
I realized I hadn’t spoken in forever. Not wanting Cassie to think I was creeped out or anything, I blurted, “Do you know why he, um, did that to you now?”
“No.” She straightened, and her tone became curious. “Did he seem weird to you?”
I gripped the sheet tighter. Of course he seemed weird to me; the man was glowing. But I couldn’t say that. This one thousand percent wasn’t the time to tell Cassie about my power. Tonight was about her. Also, the fact Sanctuary probably knew a Seeker existed was enough for one week.
This was one of those moments I usually said something stupid. But a sense of self-preservation took over, and I calmly said, “I don’t know. I’ve never met him before. But I admit he’s exactly what I expected: a jackass.”
Cassie nodded under her sheet.
Trying to remain casual, I said, “Why? Did he seem, um, different to you?”
She took a few deep breaths before answering. “Kind of. Not really. He got really aggressive when we got back to the hotel.”
“Maybe being at the school set him off.”
“Maybe. They did call him.”
“What?” I said. My voice squeaked, but I couldn’t help it. Sanctuary called Mr. Cooke? Was it because of my note?
Trying to sound casual, I said, “What did they say?”
“I don’t know.”
“But he got more aggressive after that?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say.”
I nodded, desperately wishing I knew what had happened. We sat under our sheets a few more minutes, stewing in our thoughts, until Cassie laid down. I took her cue and did the same, realizing our conversation was over for now. Before we finished, though, I threw out a last, “Just a friendly reminder that you’re awesome and my best friend.”
Cassie didn’t respond, but I didn’t hear her crying or anything before falling asleep, so I took that as a good sign.
* * * * *
Throughout the days before Roze returned from Christmas break, I sneaked in research about Cassie’s adoptive dad wherever I could. That meant flying to my computer the rare moments Cassie went out somewhere. During my searches, I found the recent videos of Senator Joseph’s announcements. Sure enough, Mr. Cooke stood behind him, glowing, with a group of Zimmerman’s Zealots. I wished I knew what he looked like earlier, although he never did anything except nod at Senator Joseph’s words.
It was tough finding other information. Mr. Cooke wasn’t in the public eye that much. I figured he was a bit player in the whole thing, just another controlled Zimmerman’s Zealot who could have been anyone’s dad. It just sucked he was Cassie’s.
Roze’s return two days before school started back up brought me out of my research, and thankfully, cheered everyone up. She was so happy to be back—her parents ruined her vacation by repeatedly trying to set her up with their male neighbor—that her good mood was infectious. I joined her in a little jig through the parking lot after her parents dropped her off.
Cassie was also snapping out of her funk, especially when Roze hugged her as soon as they saw each other. Cassie blushed awkwardly, but Roze didn’t care and held her a few more seconds. The moment lasted a little too long. Maybe it was another sign they’d become more than friends. Roze didn’t give me time to think about it, though, because she punched my arm and said, “I’m starving! Every time I wanted to eat at home, Dad invited the neighbors over.”
Practically running to the cafeteria, the three of us had a great lunch, and by the time we were done, things felt right again.
After I finished up the last of my Healing Ham, Roze finally asked if she’d missed anything significant.
Cassie and I looked at each other. She faked a casual shrug and said, “No. Just dealt with our families.”
I nodded, and as a diversion from Mr. Cooke, told Roze about my parents’ short-lived visit. By the time I finished, she was invested enough not to question anything else.
“They actually left!?” she said. “Dang!”
“I didn’t expect it,” I said.
“But they had Molly call you after?”
“They felt guilty,” Cassie said.
“It was nice.” I stabbed a piece of ham fat on my plate. “But I still can’t believe they planned that whole trip behind Molly’s back.”
“Sounds like we were all in the same crappy boat,” Roze said.
I couldn’t help but think Cassie’s boat was worse than ours—we were in rusty tugboats, while she floundered in a sinking canoe—but I simply agreed. If Cassie wanted to talk to Roze, she would.
* * * * *
Our first day of classes arrived way too quickly. Not only was I enjoying sleeping in and avoiding homework, but school starting back up reminded me of the note I’d placed on Wolcott’s car. By the time I started getting dressed that morning, I seriously regretted the mission. As far as I knew, it hadn’t accomplished anything. The only thing I’d done was out myself. And now I wondered what the teachers might do.
While I sloppily fixed my hair, a voice in my head said, Nobody knows. The note was probably lost in the snow. It’s something I’d been thinking for several days, and by the time I got to Geometry, I’d convinced myself it might be true. The thought was bolstered by the fact Ms. Meeks walked in and wrote the day’s agenda on the board, like she always did.
However, instead of going into the lesson, she turned and said, “Considering everything going on with Senator Joseph, the staff met over the holidays. We decided that students may need someone to talk to during these troubling times. Especially if they have concerns or information they need to share.”
It was how she stressed “information” that kicked my heart into overdrive. She also gave us a pleading look, like she knew someone was hiding something important. I looked around. Nobody else seemed to pick up on it. Even Roze’s eyes had glazed over. Clearly, she thought this was a typical speech we’d all heard before.
But it wasn’t.
The teachers had received my note! And the
y were addressing it, probably to the entire school. I gripped my pencil so hard, it snapped in half. For the first time, the faculty knew the Seeker was probably out there.
“Are you OK?”
I jerked and looked at Roze, who frowned at me.
“Yeah.” I forced a smirk and said, “I just think I need to talk to a teacher for all my concerns.”
Roze held back a laugh. “Your acting is getting better. For a second, I thought something was really going on.”
Mentally high-fiving myself, I forced my face to appear calm as Ms. Meeks finished her speech.
“I can’t stress how important it is that you come forward if you need to share,” she said. “It could save your life. Or the life of a close friend.”
Fortunately, the speech was vague. It sounded like any “cry for help” talk I’d heard. It was clearly designed for the Seeker, alone, to get. But my heart kept pounding. Guilt started creeping in, too. The hope mixed with desperation in Ms. Meeks’s voice told me I could be the answer to their prayers. Surely, they’d been in the dark since Jimmy. I bet my note resulted in a tidal wave of hope.
I clasped my hands together and remained stoic. I didn’t even budge when she finished and looked at each of us, as if expecting someone to jump up and shout, “It was MEEEE!”
After a few seconds, she nodded once, and as if nothing had happened, started the lecture.
None of my other teachers gave the speech that morning. I was glad; if it happened over and over, people might realize something was going on. As it were, the talk felt standard, and I figured that was deliberate, like the teachers were looking out for the new Seeker’s best interests.
After I entered the cafeteria for lunch and grabbed my food, I caught Roze and Cassie in the middle of one of their classic debates. I was glad things were back to normal—and gladder they weren’t focusing on the morning’s speech—and I listened in, smiling.
“That’s ridiculous,” Roze was saying as she took a drink. “What do you think, Blaize?”
“About what?”
