by Malinda Lo
“I thought you were being held at Area 51?” Grace said.
“Wait, start at the beginning,” Reese’s mom said, sitting in one of the folding chairs next to her ex-husband. “What does this paper mean?”
David’s father, Winston, held out his hand. “Let me take a look,” he said. “I’m not a geneticist, but I might be able to figure it out.”
“He’s a biochemist,” Grace said. “So modest.”
Winston read through the short document. “This is very odd,” he concluded. “It says that these birds are being genetically modified to make them more intelligent. But why? Do they need to train them for some reason? And what is this word, Imria?”
Reese felt David’s leg tighten, and his tension radiated throughout her whole body. She had known she would have to explain what had really been done to her at Project Plato, but now that the moment had come, she wasn’t sure if she was ready. Would her parents even believe her?
Julian’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “We have to turn on the TV,” he said. He lunged for the remote that was half-hidden behind the stack of takeout containers and switched on the television. It was already on CNN, and a silver-haired announcer was saying: “—going to a live feed from the White House in a couple of minutes. We’re told that President Randall will address the nation regarding the video footage containing the unidentified flying object.”
President Elizabeth Randall appeared unusually nervous as the camera opened onto a marble hall in the White House. Reese had never liked President Randall—she thought the woman was too much of a slick politician—but today she showed some rougher edges. Standing behind a podium decorated with the presidential seal and flanked by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the president’s hand shook slightly as she adjusted her glasses.
“My fellow Americans,” President Randall began, “I know that the events of the past couple of days have shaken many of you and caused some of you to question whether your own government has been keeping secrets. Well, this is an unprecedented situation, folks, and I’m going to cut through all the PR speak and tell it to you like it is—which is just what I promised you I would do when you elected me two years ago.”
“Bullshit,” Reese’s mom snapped.
The president looked gravely at the camera. “The truth is: Yes, your government has lied to you. It has been lying to you for decades, because it believed that you were better off not knowing the truth. But as soon as I stepped into office, I began working to stop the lies. And today I’m going to tell you the truth.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, it’s true: We have been visited by extraterrestrials.”
“I can’t believe she said that,” Julian breathed, leaning forward.
“They first visited us in 1947, and some of that visit was leaked by mistake to the public and became popularly known as the Roswell Incident.” The president smiled self-deprecatingly. “But they’re not little green men, or gray aliens, as many conspiracy buffs believe. The people who visited us—” She paused dramatically. “There’s no other way to say it. They look like us. The people you saw in the video who were running into the spacecraft—those people were our extraterrestrial visitors.”
Reese already knew this, but hearing the president say the words out loud still made a chill run down her spine. She glanced at Julian to see how he took it; he was gaping at the television.
The president adjusted her glasses again, then tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “Since 1947 the United States has been cooperating with these extraterrestrial visitors, who identify themselves as the Imria. We have set up a research agreement with them, exchanging scientific knowledge and developing a relationship. The United States government decided to keep this relationship classified because in 1947, the world was reeling from the aftermath of World War II, and we were fighting the rise of Communism. If I had been president then, I can promise you I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
“Whatever,” Julian said. “She wouldn’t have made a statement if that video hadn’t been leaked. It forced her hand.”
“In recent days, it has become clear to me that the time for secrecy has passed,” the president continued. “In order to move forward into the future—a future in which interplanetary contact is no longer a thing of science fiction—you deserve to know who these Imria are. The release of the video earlier this week showed me that you are ready for the truth. But my fellow Americans, I am afraid that the truth is not entirely pretty. After the ship that you saw in the video lifted off, we have had no further contact from the Imria. At this point, we are alone, again, on our planet. So, I say this to the Imria: If you are watching, I invite you to make public contact with us. We will meet at a global summit. We will begin our relationship anew.” She paused. “And to my fellow Americans, I offer my heartfelt apologies. On behalf of all the administrations before mine that kept this secret from you: I am sorry. I hope we can move forward into a more truthful and open future.”
CNN cut back to the newsroom, where the anchor began to summarize the president’s words. “That’s it?” Julian said. “She lays that on us, and that’s it? No follow-up?”
“That’s quite a lot on its own,” Winston said.
Julian and David’s father began to debate the ramifications of the president’s announcement, but Reese wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on the television, where the anchor was now turning to a panel of experts to discuss what had just occurred. In a smaller picture embedded in the upper left corner of the screen, CNN was playing the video from Area 51.
It was a black-and-white image, and the desert looked like something out of a 1950s B movie, especially with the black triangle hovering in the sky. Reese recognized David and herself and even Agent Todd running toward the spacecraft—there was no other way to describe it—as it lowered itself effortlessly into a perfect landing. She knew what was coming, and her muscles tensed in anticipation as she watched a girl break away from the group of people closer to the spacecraft. She ran back toward the camera, and though her face was so tiny in the inset video it was unrecognizable, Reese knew it was Amber. Just before Amber reached David and Reese, she stretched out a hand and seemed to throw herself at Reese, knocking her to the ground. As they fell, Reese’s body twisted so that her face turned toward the camera, hair flying. The letters on her SFPD T-shirt stood out in stark contrast for a fraction of a second, and then Amber’s body jerked, struck by a bullet from offscreen.
Reese flinched as she saw Amber slump over her, head lolling forward. She couldn’t stop watching, even though it was making her queasy. She watched David dragging Amber off her. She watched herself crawl over to Amber as the dark stain on her belly spread. She watched herself press her hands over the wound, and then David joined her and did the same. The sight of the three of them on the ground, connected by the seeping blood from Amber’s abdomen like some kind of morbid triptych, seemed to burn itself into her mind’s eye.
And then Reese had to get up and leave, because she couldn’t stand to see it anymore.
CHAPTER 42
Reese ran upstairs to her bedroom, closing the door between herself and everyone else. She leaned against the door for a moment, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes as if that would rub out the image that hovered there. She became aware of an unexpected sound in the distance, like rotors whirring.
Her room was dim; the blinds were drawn shut. But she could make out the gleam of plastic attached to the wall that she had painted to look like her dream. The sound came closer, and she went to the window, separating the blinds to peer out. Down on the sidewalk the crowd of reporters only seemed to have grown, and some of them were looking up at the sky. A helicopter was circling overhead. As it turned, Reese could read what was printed on the side: EYEWITNESS NEWS.
She let the blinds fall shut and backed away, striking the edge of her desk with her hip. She felt trapped, and all of a sudden the accumulated stress of the last few weeks seemed to tower over her in a p
recarious pile of conflicting emotions and confusing facts. She sank down to the floor, leaning against the side of her desk, and wrapped her elbows around her knees. She couldn’t break down. Her parents—her father!—and Julian and David’s family and David too were all downstairs, and there was a mob outside the front door, salivating for her to tell them what had happened.
She tried to breathe in to calm herself, but it only seemed to make things worse. Now she wanted to burst into tears. She buried her head in her arms, her body shuddering as she tried to contain the panic roaring in her. Hot tears slid out of her eyes, dampening the dark blue cotton of the shirt Agent Forrestal had given her. She wiped her eyes against the material, hating it for what it represented. They were trying to turn her into their nicely washed puppet, trying to obscure the fact that she and David had been kept in virtual isolation for days. During that time she had clung to her newfound connection with David—it had been the only thing that was good about it—but now that she was out, she didn’t understand how she felt about him. It was like she missed him, but simultaneously she was afraid of the fact that she missed him.
There was a knock on her door. David. “Reese? Can I come in?”
No.
He pushed open the door and came inside, switching on her desk lamp. He sat down on the floor in front of her, the toe of his sneaker touching hers. He said softly, “It was rough to see that video, wasn’t it?”
“She’s the hero,” Reese blurted out, raising her head. “That’s what Julian told me. The media thinks she took a bullet for me.”
“You mean Amber.” His voice was gentle, and she couldn’t bear the way he looked at her, as if she were a broken doll.
“Yes, I mean Amber.” She angrily wiped away the tears from her face, then rubbed her damp fingers over her jeans.
“What do you think?” David asked. “Do you think she’s the hero?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I think she’s still a liar. Can you be both?”
“I have no idea.” He paused. “Is that what’s bothering you? You still have feelings for her?”
She was startled by the bluntness of his question. His mouth was drawn down at the corners, and a sharp line formed in the middle of his forehead, betraying his tension. She knew he deserved an answer, but more than that, she deserved an answer. “I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “I don’t know how I feel. I wish I did. Everything is so crazy out there. Those reporters—what are we supposed to tell them? And what’s going on with the government? You think they’re just going to let us out of Area 51 without doing anything else to us? Who are we anyway? Are we even still human?”
David’s face relaxed slightly. “You’re just as human as I am. And we’re going to figure out all this stuff together. You’re not alone in this, you know.”
The shyness that had made her so twitchy downstairs came back. Everything they had gone through at Area 51 had forced them into such quick intimacy. Not physical intimacy—Reese thought that might have been easier to deal with—but mental and emotional intimacy. He knew how she felt because he could feel it too. But she wasn’t used to anyone knowing that stuff about her. She was used to being on her own, being independent, figuring things out by herself.
Abruptly, she said, “I don’t know if I can do this with you.” The words sounded unexpectedly harsh, and Reese turned red. “I mean—I’m just not used to—to—”
He put a hand lightly on her foot, the barest contact, and yet even through her shoe she felt the solidity of him. Reassuring. “Do what?” he asked quietly.
There was nothing aggressive in his question; she knew she could make a joke and brush it off, pretend like she had been talking about something else, and he wouldn’t push her. But then she would be a liar, and she didn’t want to lie to him. For one thing, he would know, and besides, she would feel like a jerk. She was still afraid to face her feelings for him; she felt them twisting inside her like knotted ropes. She had to find some way to unknot them or else they would hang her. She imagined herself sitting here in the corner of her bedroom forever, strangled by this lump of emotion in her throat.
The only way she could get beyond it was to force herself to move. She scrambled to her feet and went to the windows. She grabbed the cord to pull up the blinds, but then stopped. She could still hear the helicopter rotors. All those reporters were waiting outside.
“What I mean,” she began, her back turned to David, “is that I don’t know how to date anyone. I never wanted to date anyone until—until recently.” She heard him get up, but she still didn’t turn. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to act, and I’m pretty sure I’ll freak out at some point, and then you’ll think I’m crazy. I already freaked out on you in Phoenix, and it messed us up at the finals and it was all my fault.” She dropped the cord and turned to face him. “So maybe it’s not a good idea for us to… get involved.”
He seemed both startled and a little pleased. “Are you saying that you got so upset in Phoenix because you liked me?”
She turned bright red. “I’m—I—”
“Because I totally did not get that from you. I thought you were freaked out because you realized that I liked you.” His cheeks were pink. “So I backed off.”
“But you almost kissed me in that interrogation room.”
“I thought you almost kissed me,” he objected.
“What are you saying?” she said, confused. “That you don’t want to kiss me?”
His eyebrows rose. “No.” He smiled slightly. “That is not what I’m saying.”
Warmth spread through her, loosening the knotted rope inside. “Then what are you saying?” she whispered.
“I’m saying that we can take it really slow.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out?” she said in a low voice. “What if you end up hating me?” To her horror, tears sprang into her eyes. “I don’t want that to happen.”
“Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself,” he said softly. “We haven’t even started anything yet. Why are you already assuming it’s not going to work out? And you could end up hating me, you know. You’re not the only person involved.”
“I wouldn’t end up hating you.” You’re not like Amber. But she didn’t let herself speak the sentence out loud.
If he heard her thoughts, it didn’t show. He simply reached for her hands, which she had clenched into fists at her sides. Their fingers laced together, and she felt her defensive walls melting. “How slow did you want to go?” she asked, something in her stomach fluttering maddeningly.
“As slow as you want.” He slid his hands behind her back, her fingers still twined in his. As the space between them closed, she pulled her hands free and curled them over the nape of his neck.
He was right there at her fingertips. She could let go. She could let him in. And she wanted to. All of her fears were still there, hovering in the background like swirling fog, but right now—in this moment—they were less significant than the fact that this was David, right here, and she trusted him.
He was worth the possibility of getting hurt.
She let down her guard. In an instant he was so much more than a physical presence next to her; it was like going from two to three dimensions in the blink of an eye. Now he was fully formed. His body was filled with a curling heat that made her knees weak.
He bent his head and kissed her.
His lips were harder than Amber’s, but he was gentler. When he pulled her close, it was as if her whole body gave a long, shaking sigh. Dimly she heard some kind of racket outside—people were shouting—but she was too distracted to pay attention. She opened her mouth beneath his. His hands pressed her closer, and there was a single, jarring moment when she realized how different his body was from Amber’s. He was all long planes and muscle, and she splayed her hands over his upper back, mapping out the shape of him against her.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry!”
The sound of Julian’s voice made her and David sp
ring apart, breathless.
Dazed, Reese looked at the door. Julian was holding it half open, his eyes averted as his face darkened with embarrassment. “I’m really sorry,” he said again. “I totally didn’t mean to interrupt, um, but there’s someone here to see you.”
Reese’s skin tingled. She knew, with an uncanny certainty, who it was. She crossed the room on wobbly legs and grabbed the door handle. She pulled it all the way open. Julian stepped aside.
Amber was standing in the hall outside. There was no trace of the bullet wound on her. She looked just like she always had, wearing faded jeans and a white tank top beneath her red hoodie with the racer stripe. Her white-blond hair was perfectly styled, and she had even put on makeup: smudged eyeliner, lip gloss in that candylike shine.
“Hi, Reese,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Bad time?”
CHAPTER 43
Reese could tell right away that this conversation wasn’t going to go well.
She could feel David’s tension rising as he crossed the room to join her just inside the doorway. Julian looked like he was torn between fleeing the scene and holding out to see what was going to happen next.
“What are you doing here?” Reese asked.
“I was hoping you’d be at least a little bit happy that I’m not dead,” Amber said. She was obviously going for sarcasm, but the undertone of hurt was unmistakable.
“That’s not fair,” Reese said in a low voice. “You know I’m happy that you’re alive.”
Amber’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Yeah? Well, now I do.”
The words stung, but David spoke before Reese could formulate a retort. “Amber, right?” he said. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.” He extended his hand to her.
Amber looked at it, startled, as if no one had ever offered to shake her hand before. “Hi. You must be David.”
“Yeah.”
Reese didn’t want to be aware of the way the two of them felt when they shook hands: surprised, wary. She didn’t want to notice the way they looked at each other: like adversaries. She shook her head in annoyance and asked, “Are you going to tell us why you’re here?”
