by Lee Davidson
“Please, can I try and block you? I need to be sure I still can.”
“OK, but we have to make this fast.”
“Thank you!” She moves a few paces away from me. “Stay standing, all right?”
I glance again at the doors and nod.
“Haze,” she orders.
Because I’m too preoccupied to pull my energy in, everything darkens to black and the temperature drops for an instant. My knees willingly buckle in order to stop my own screaming voice in my head commanding me to sit.
“Oh, thank the Lord!” Morgan is shouting with her hands over her head. “Thank you, Grant! Thank you so much!” She bends down and her lips peck my forehead before she runs across the field. I dumbly watch her as she skips up the stone path.
“Thanks again, Grant!” she says.
My foggy head registers that I’ve been blocked. Not because I remember, but because of Morgan’s response. I push myself up from the ground and sprint to the door, maneuvering between Morgan and a leafy plant on the landscaped walkway.
The courtyard hallway is vacant, but down the corridor the lobby is buzzing with loud voices. Among the crowd of people, I have no luck spotting any of the Elites.
I cut a path through the groups of Satellites and head towards Benson. I need to find an Elite who will give me answers, seeing as Jonathan was zero help in that department. Once I’m in the crowded dining hall, another blow. I can’t find a single Elite when I pan the faces. Even worse, my usual table of friends is vacant.
I keep searching, focused on the doorway in the back of the room in hopes that someone, anyone I can talk to may exit. Nothing.
“Have you seen Billy or Evelynn?” I ask a guy who is on his way out, figuring I’ll go after the two Elites that seemed the angriest at Jonathan, and therefore, the two who may be most willing to talk.
“They just took off with some Elites. Willow, and a few others were with them.”
“Did you see where they went?”
He raises his Indians ball cap, pulls it back down, and shakes his head. “Sorry. All I saw was them heading toward the lobby.”
The informant must think I’m the rudest guy ever when my boots pivot and I sprint away. Not caring, I don’t stop until I reach a group of about a dozen Satellites in the lobby. “Have you seen Billy or Evelynn?” I blurt out.
By their reaction, they must think I’ve escaped the asylum.
“How about Willow? Or maybe Rigby or Owen?”
Nothing.
I move on to the next group and get the same empty results. It’s not until I reach my eleventh inquiry when someone is finally able to point towards the Y Hallway branching off the marble lobby.
I run there, murmuring my apologies when I bump a few people along the way.
Bingo.
There at the end of the hall, close to the gold cherub elevator, is everyone I’ve been searching for. All the Elites, minus Morgan, along with my usual Benson friends are collected in a tight huddle. I can’t make out what’s being said, but I easily recognize Willow’s voice doing the talking.
“Hey!” I yell.
I’m about tired of this look from everyone today.
I stalk towards them. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Oh, for the love,” Willow mumbles and shows her usual annoyance by my dramatic approach.
Evelynn steps back from the circle, making room for me to join them. “He needs to know.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea. Jonathan would have told him if he needed to know. I don’t want to go against Jonathan here. I mean, he always has his reasons for—”
“Shut it, Jackson,” Billy says. “I agree with Evelynn.”
“I don’t know, man, Jackson might be right.” Lawson says.
“Why shouldn’t he know?” Clara asks. “This is about him.”
“Yeah, he’s the reason we can’t block,” Billy adds.
My anger ramps up. “How am I the reason?”
Anna repeatedly taps her toe on the floor and glances down the hall. “What do you think, Willow?”
Willow doesn’t answer.
“We should tell him,” Elliott says.
Liam is as nervous as Anna. “I don’t know…”
Rigby pulls the toothpick from his mouth. “He’s going to find out eventually. I mean, how long can Jonathan keep this from him? Look at you all. None of you can block and Whitfield confirmed that Grant can’t either. She suspects something is going on and it’s only a matter of time before others are going to catch on as well. I’m tired of lying to my girl. If you don’t tell him what’s going on, I will. I’m not keeping this secret.”
“Let’s vote on it.”
Everyone, myself included, freezes on Jackson because he’s never made such a direct statement. As long as I’ve known the guy, at least.
“Fine. We’ll vote. Those in favor of telling him?” Willow purses her lips and waits for a show of hands.
Rigby’s and Evelynn’s go up, followed by Billy, Clara, Elliott, and mine—assuming my hand counts.
I wait for Willow to make a move. Finally, her hand rises into the air as well, breaking the tie.
Then, with the worst timing ever, my calimeter buzzes.
The others reach for their watches.
A slow breath goes through Willow’s nose. “Saved by the bell. Let’s meet here at next break.
There’s no way I can wait until break. “Tell me now!”
“Sorry, kid, but duty calls. Next break it is. See you all then.”
Before I can argue, Lawson and Liam have dropped through the floor and the others follow one by one. Owen and Anna kiss goodbye and are the last ones to disappear, aside from Willow.
“See you later, kid. Chin up, ‘K?”
“Willow, come on! I’m going to be worthless back on my assignment.”
“Seeing as you can’t block, I agree. It won’t hurt to keep trying, though.”
“Won’t hurt? My head might explode off my neck!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she tries to joke.
“Seriously, Willow, what about my Tragedy?”
Willow is speechless. This is worse than I thought.
“What about you? Can you block?”
Willow shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Grant. I really am.”
“What are you sorry for? Give me something here!”
She takes three strides and wraps her arms around me. “Better get back to your Tragedy. Do your best today, kid. I’ll see you at break.” With that, she releases me and starts toward the lobby.
Tempted to go after her, I choose Meggie instead. Even if there’s nothing I can do for her, the pull is still there to try and protect her the best that I can. Problem is, without my blocking ability, I have no idea how.
I land at Meggie’s and make a quick plan B. Maybe Lawson or Elliott will be willing to give me something.
Maybe not.
“Please,” I beg the guys after they both tell me no.
“We’ll discuss it as a group,” Lawson says in a firm voice.
Whitfield paces the small living area in front of the T.V. If she were human, she’d surely have Brody, Ryan, and Max yelling at her to get out of the way. “I knew something was going on! Rigby’s so distant lately. Is this why, whatever this is?” She freezes with her hands on her hips.
Without a word, Lawson pushes himself up from the floor and walks into the kitchen behind Brody.
“You are so infuriating! Just tell the guy what’s going on. I want to know, too!” Whitfield yells after him.
“He won’t talk.” I’ve known the guy long enough to know that much.
“Elliott?” Whitfield directs.
“Sorry. I would, but I have to stick with the group on this. We’ll tell him at break. I’m sure Rigby will fill you in soon.”
“Tell him what?”
“I really am sorry.�
�� Elliott says to me, and then disappears into the kitchen with Ryan.
What’s with all the apologies? And how could I have anything to do with everyone’s inability to block?
Instead of making myself crazy mulling this over, I read Meggie’s assignment book and learn that Brody is returning to the highway department tomorrow. I worry about how Meggie will handle being alone all day. The next paragraph answers my question. Just as I feared, she’s going to struggle. A lot. My nervous stomach begins to cramp. How am I going to protect her? Before I can dwell too long on that, Meggie falls into her first crying spell.
“Haze,” I say, silently praying that my Satellite ability will miraculously reappear.
It doesn’t. All that I’m left with is the headache of the century and an irate Whitfield.
Nancy comes to the rescue for the second time, consoling Meggie the best she can. I follow the girls into the kitchen, ignoring Whitfield’s fifty questions along the way. Lawson watches me with pity in his eyes, which makes me even angrier. My only saving grace is seeing Brody pour a Coke, straight up. If the guy was still drinking, I’d be in a world of hurt.
After successfully ignoring Whitfield’s questions—not a difficult task seeing as I don’t have a single answer to what’s going on with me—the party ends an hour later. My head still hurts and I’m all for some quiet time.
“I’ll see you at break. I really am sorry, Grant. I need you to know that. What we did…” Elliott trails off. “I’m sorry.” He’s broken enough that I can’t push him for information even though every part of me is screaming to do just that. Whitfield’s on it, though, following Elliott with a slew of questions pouring from her mouth, most of which are “tell me what’s going on” phrased a bunch of different ways.
Brody gathers the last of the empty pizza boxes before taking the trashcan out to the curb.
Meggie and I head into the bathroom where she starts filling the clawfoot tub. I silently excuse myself before she gets undressed and sit on the bed while she bathes. Brody comes in ten minutes later and joins her in the bathroom.
Lawson sits beside me.
“So you can’t block either?” I ask after a few silent minutes.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been fortunate that Brody has had a couple decent days. I’ve only had to try a few times.”
“When did you first notice you couldn’t?”
He takes his time answering and the secret they’re all keeping grates on my nerves.
“The day before you came back on assignment,” he finally says.
“The others, what they said…how could this possibly have anything to do with me? I was on probation. I wasn’t even around!”
Lawson takes a deep breath. “I have a few theories. They seem to be in line with what the others think.”
Whitfield was right, Lawson is seriously infuriating! Break can’t come soon enough. Knowing I’ll never get Lawson to talk, I decide to drop it. “So Brody’s going back to work?”
Lawson nods. “Tomorrow. He’s going to be part-time for a while. You think Meggie will go back soon?”
“I have no idea. I hope so. I thought being around babies would be awful for her, but when she spent an afternoon visiting them at the hospital she actually seemed peaceful.”
“Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to work, you know? Maybe that’s why she does what she does.”
“Are you really giving me the whole ‘everything happens for a reason’ bit?”
Lawson shrugs his massive shoulders. “Who knows. Maybe.”
Yeah, maybe. Or maybe her kids could have not burned to death. I decide not to open my big mouth and instead, our conversation ends.
About an hour later, when Brody’s deep breathing has fallen into a solid pattern, Lawson leaves the room, probably to avoid another line of questioning. I stay parked in the corner of the bedroom, worrying about tomorrow. Watching Meggie sleep, the question lingers in my head: how will I help her?
The next morning Brody makes Meggie breakfast before kissing her goodbye and heading off to his first day back in the field. He looks nervous, either because he has to leave her or because he’s trying to meld back into normal life. Probably both.
Meggie busies herself with laundry and cleaning the house. She talks to Janine for a while on the phone and then takes a nap. After waking from a nightmare, she makes a late lunch, and does a better job of mutilating her sandwich than actually eating it. After an hour, she gives up on the crumbled bread and washes her plate. Her composure breaks when she’s at the sink.
“Haze!”
More Pain!
Damn it!
“Haze!”
Oooouch!
Meggie’s knees buckle and she slides her back down the cabinets, hitting the vinyl floor. She cries and cries. And cries. And cries.
After three more attempts at blocking, I cannot physically continue. I hold my ears, certain that something—blood or maybe my whole brain—is oozing from them.
Meggie gets up and I convince myself that she’s going to pull herself out of this.
She slides open the utensil draw and her hand disappears inside, emerging with a sharp knife.
“Meggie, no!” I roar, forgetting all about my head, and cross to her. My body ghosts through hers in my effort to take the knife away.
Focus, Grant, focus.
“Haze!”
Oh my God, it hurts!
Through my watery eyes, Meggie is blurred as she turns the knife over in her hand, examining the sharp blade.
“Meggie, please! No!” I plead, now crying with her. “No, no, no,” I sob.
A different approach comes to mind. I focus my energy and try to hug the color around the knife. The filter is too weak and only tints the silver in the lightest blue. I take a shot anyway, grabbing for the knife. Like my body, my hands ghost through the blade.
I yell out a final plea when Meggie rests the shiny blade on her wrist. “Somebody help me!”
Sinking to the floor in pain, exhaustion, and despair, I cry into my knees. “Please, Meggie! Please don’t do this. Oh God, don’t do this. Brody needs you. Those babies need you. This world needs you.” This is all true. I know deep in my core that there is a reason she must live through this hell. She MUST! “Meggie, please,” I sob.
“Shh, it’s OK,” a whispering voice says. “Mom, it’s OK. I’m here. I’m here for you now.”
My head lifts slowly because I know that I’m delusional. It couldn’t possibly…
The guy standing beside Meggie pushes his blond hair off his forehead. My eyes grow wider and I use my palm to push away the pooling water, sure that I am hallucinating.
“It’s OK, you’re going to be all right. Can you feel me here with you? I love you, Mom. Please don’t do this to yourself.” His deep voice throws me off, but the resemblance is there.
The sound of metal hitting the countertop makes me jump. Air gurgles through Meggie’s runny nose and she wipes her eyes.
“Josh?” she whispers.
I have brain damage. It’s the only explanation.
“I’m here! I’m right here, Mom.”
Meggie begins sobbing again, but this time her cries are different, hopeful, maybe even happy. She comes down to my level on the floor and wraps her arms around her legs.
Josh kneels in front of her and tries to hug himself around her. Instead, he ghosts through her legs and makes a sour face. When he recovers from his obvious frustration, he puts his face close to hers.
“I love you, Mom. I miss you so much, but I’ll see you again. You have to stay strong for me. You have to stay strong for Sophie and Harper. They love you, too.”
My mouth moves, but no sound comes. When I’m finally able to talk, my voice cracks.
“Josh?”
The guy looks over at me.
“How did you get here?” I ask, surprised that my voice even works.
He puts up his index f
inger and raises it to his lips in a shh gesture. Then he returns his attention to Meggie, trying to wrap his arms around her again. He awkwardly holds his head on her knee as if resting it there, close to Meggie’s face.
25. Oh, honey, his trouble started way before becoming an Elite
After landing in my room, I head straight to the Y hall. I’m out of breath when I reach the others. Everyone but Rigby is already congregated in a tight group.
“Josh came back!” are the first words out of my mouth.
Lawson is the only one who understands what I’m saying.
“Meggie’s son, Meggie’s dead son! He’s older now. Shoot, maybe thirty even, but he was there in the kitchen with her!”
“That’s impossible,” Lawson says.
“It was him, I know it was. He helped Meggie. I couldn’t block her, she was about to…he saved her life!”
“Her son? On Earth?” Willow questions.
“Are you sure it was Josh?”
I nod to Lawson, ignoring the doubt on his face, and then turn to Willow. “Tell me what’s going on.”
The others become very still after turning to Willow.
“Lawson told me you don’t remember your fiancée.” Willow lifts her eyes to the ceiling. For a second, I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or someone else. “I figured as much, but that hasn’t always been the case. You didn’t forget Tate when you got here.” Willow continues, despite my glazed over expression. “You broke the rules and went back to see her during your last assignment. Something I wasn’t all that thrilled to hear.”
The disappointment on her face pains me. “Willow, I wouldn’t have left Ryder—”
“You did,” she says sharply.
I wouldn’t have done that to her, or her son. No way. She has to know this. “Willow, I would have never—”
She cuts me off again. “Tate broke your connection to her by destroying all of the material things you gave her. You forgot her. I wasn’t thrilled about that either, but that’s how things are supposed to happen here, right? Each of us forgets our previous life.” She takes a breath. “I didn’t accept this so I took you back to her, which was a huge, careless mistake on my part. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, you connected to her again.”
