by Jess Evander
I search each of their faces. My supposed friends. So none of them think I’m capable. For all their kind words, not one believes in me.
Who cares? They don’t know me. Not really. “You know what? I don’t need people telling me what I can and can’t do.” I shove back from the table. “Forget it! Forget all of you.” People at other tables are gawking as I storm out of the dining room. Well, forget them too.
Taking off at a jog, I bite back tears. They need to stay in my eyes until I’m safely confined to my room. Like a pinball, I smack off an older gentleman, which tosses me off course for a moment. I stumble, throw out a “sorry,” and start running again. In front of my bedroom, I fumble to get my keycard out of my pocket. It flutters to the ground. With a growl, I snatch it back up and swipe the card through the reader.
My door swooshes open. I hate it. If only it was old fashioned, like the one on my bedroom at home. You can’t slam any of these stupid automatic doors.
The tears start to fall immediately. I strip out of my clothing and stomp into the bathroom. My hand trembles as I jam the card into the slot. When the touch screen illuminates I choose hot, pulsing water. I let it drum into my back, making me numb. Salty tears slick down my face, onto my lips. The skin on my fingers starts to prune.
My mind floods with thoughts of home. Faded sheets on my old twin mattress and thin rugs over old wooden floors sound like a fantasy now. Can’t they just set me free already?
Why waste time on all this training if they are never going to let me help? Have they been babysitting me this whole time? Keeping me occupied while something bigger is going on? Either that—or I’ve disappointed them. I don’t know which option is worse.
Both mean the same thing in the end. They’ve all decided I’m useless.
Later, I sit in bed with the lights on, absently tracing my finger back and forth over the black spot on my shifting bracelet. The blemish. No matter how many times I try to rub it away, it stays. One more thing mocking me, reminding me I don’t belong.
Someone knocks on my door and I glare at it, hoping they can feel my stink eye through the inch of metal. “Go away!”
“Gabby? It’s Eugene. Please let me in.”
Ugh. I jump off my bed and cross to the door, slamming my hand on the open button. It will take too much energy to be mean to Eugene. Besides, he brought me food in jail. We have a special bond. Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be difficult to get rid of. Let him say how sorry he is that I can’t go. I can roll my eyes. Then call it a night.
Eugene has his hands looped in his pockets. He only steps about a foot into my room, enough space for the door to shut. Then he stays rooted right there.
I clear my throat. “If you’re here to give me some pep talk, don’t bother.”
“I’ll sneak you in. Tomorrow. When Michael shifts. I’ll send you too.”
My head snaps up. “Why would you do that? Everyone else said—”
He steps closer, clenching his hands together. “Everyone else is wrong. They don’t understand. They’ve turned a blind eye.”
I back up. “You’re freaking me out a little bit.”
“In the past few years, the Shades have grown too powerful. The Elders have ignored the signs. Shades aren’t following the old rules. And us? If action’s not taken, I’m afraid of what that’ll mean. Keleusma’s been waiting for someone like you—someone who didn’t grow up knowing the ins and outs of how our world should be.” He makes quotation marks with his hands for the last two words. “You can see things more clearly. Discern things the other Shifters can’t. We need you. You might be the only one who can save us.”
Hearing him mention the Shades makes heebie jeebies crawl down my back. And, wait, save us? I can’t even snip the right cord on a fake bomb.
“You know, you’re not helping me freak out any less.”
Eugene crosses his arms. “Will you go, or not?”
I stare at the palms of my hands. Study the lines. “They all said I’m not ready.”
“You understand what’s right without being told.” His voice is soft. “That’s what makes you so special, Gabby.”
“You don’t think I need more sword training and debate lessons?”
“I think it’ll come to you when you need it.” He uncrosses his arms. “Honestly, I think your heart is all you need. You’ll know what to do.”
His words seep into me. Cutting bindings I didn’t even know were fastened tightly around my heart, choking me. “Then I’ll go.”
A triumphant glow lights his smile as he tells me Darnell will come for me early in the morning. He instructs me not to tell anyone. Which proves almost impossible later when Michael comes knocking on my door.
I stride across the room and press the lock button. It clicks loudly, so he knows I’m right here listening. But I don’t want him to be able to get in. If I see him face-to-face—sincerity written on his features—I won’t be able to lie. To anyone else, sure. But not to Michael.
“Gabby.” He knocks again. “I know you’re upset with me, and you have a right to be.”
I lay my forehead and hand against the door, closing my eyes. His voice is rich. It’s become like a favorite song. I know he’ll be on a warpath when I join the experiment tomorrow. For now, I just want to enjoy hearing him.
He stops knocking, but he’s still there. “I wanted to say good-bye, and that I’ll miss you. And if something ... goes wrong, know that I think you’re really special and that I’m glad I met you. It might sound weird because we just met, but you’ve already changed me. The way I think about things. What’s important. So I wanted to thank you.” He sighs. “I guess that’s it.”
If something goes wrong? My eyes fly open. I don’t know why, but I hadn’t considered that. Lark suddenly sounds like the height of rationality. Eugene’s idea is far too dangerous.
Every muscle in my body burns to fling open the door and throw my arms around his neck. To breath in that mixture of pine and peppermint. Beg him not to go at all. But I keep my word to Eugene. I fist my hands and shove them into my armpits and drag myself back to bed. That night sleep comes in snatches, and when it does I wake up screaming.
Shades. All I see are Shades.
In the morning, I shower and dress long before Darnell shows up at my door. We walk together in silence down abandoned hallways to a section of the complex I didn’t know existed. Every inch bursts with computers and cubicles. Perhaps Keleusma has as much paperwork to fill out as the rest of the world.
He stops. “Are you afraid?”
“Should I be?”
We’re shoulder to shoulder, but he doesn’t turn his head at all to face me. “You’re stronger than you think you are.”
I force a laugh. “Well great. Looks like all that time on the bench press paid off.”
Poor Darnell, he’s always so serious. He probably doesn’t know what to do with me.
He turns now and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. The action makes me meet his eyes. “Inside. Where it counts. You are strong.”
We don’t talk again. He leads me through a labyrinth of dark rooms until we reach what I dub Eugene’s Mad Scientist Lab. Eugene bends over a keyboard, furiously typing. He’s oblivious to the fact that we’ve entered. There’s a large circle platform in the middle of the room surrounded by five poles. The rounded tops of the poles sizzle with something that looks like green electricity. Or lightning.
If Eugene starts to chant it’s alive, I swear I’ll bolt.
Darnell points to a counter piled with electronic equipment. “Duck back there.” I nod and do as I’m told, pulling my knees to my chest. Then Darnell steps in front of me like a body-guard. I can’t see around him, and no one will be able to see me. The door creaks and Michael and Lark stroll in together. I can hear their voices, but they’re speaking so quietly, I can’t make out the words.
“Are you truly ready for this?” Darnell’s tone rumbles like thunder before a strong storm. I feel like the questio
n is meant as a last out for me.
Michael’s voice is closer now. “As ready as I can be.”
“Great.” Eugene finally acknowledges that other people are in the room. “Go on up and stand in the very center.” A pause. “Just a few inches to the left. One more step over. Perfect. Now whatever you do, don’t move.”
“Will it hurt?” Michael asks.
Lark’s voice overtakes whatever Eugene was going to say. “I still don’t think this is wise.”
Eugene must flip a switch, because the poles begin to hum at a level that would make dogs whimper and opera singers cringe. A flash of light fills the room, zapping from the top of one poll to another. Energy surges through the room. I brace my hands on the floor.
“Here we go.” Eugene sounds excited.
The words serve as a code to Darnell. In a quick movement, he turns and grabs my arm. Hauling me to my feet, he flings me into the center of the circle with Michael.
Taken by surprise, I crash into Michael, and he turns to catch me. “Gabby! No. What are you—? Why are you—?” The expression on his face cuts to my core. Confusion. Anger. Betrayal.
“Now!” Eugene yells.
I toss my arms around Michael’s middle, snaking them underneath the backpack he wears. Press my ear into his warm chest. Hear his racing heart. He tries to push me away, but I hold fast. A sliver of light slices through us, shooting pain into every nerve. We both shriek, clinging to each other for support. My nails bite his back. His fingers dig into my shoulders. A bright flash blinds me.
Then the room disappears.
Darkness cloaks us, momentarily blocking out sound, smells, everything. My muscles shake. We hit hard-packed ground and roll together. Spots dance in my vision. As we come to a stop, I land on top of Michael. Air whooshes from his lungs, and he shoves me off him. I scramble to get on my hands and knees, coughing. I press my palm to my chest, where a deep burning sensation intensifies.
Michael slowly sits up, but then he hunches over, grabbing at his stomach. He dry heaves for a minute. The sound rips through me, propelling me forward. Ignoring the pain hitching in my side, I crawl over and rub his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Without turning around, he pushes me away. “Don’t touch me.”
“But—”
He tries to stand, to pace away from me, but he trips over a log. Barely catching himself, he comes down hard on his elbows, his head drooping.
“Michael.” My voice comes out soft, like I’m speaking to a scared, snarling dog. One hand extended, I step toward him. Twigs snap under my feet, crackling in the night air. The noise sets off a round of hooting from unseen owls. Where are we? Did Eugene work his machine correctly? Are we back on the original mission, or did he send us somewhere else? A shiver works its way up my spine.
Michael rises before I can reach him—help him. He turns on me, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. “I’m serious, Gabby. Leave me alone.”
I lift my hands but let them fall back to my sides. “I’m sorry.”
He adjusts the straps to his backpack, strides ten feet away from me, then circles back, finger pointing. “Know what? You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.”
Nausea prickles my throat, and the backs of my eyes burn. “Michael—”
“No. You forfeited your right to speak when you lied to me.” He stalks closer, but stops a few feet away. Then he turns to the side and rubs the back of his neck. It’s like he can’t stay still.
My head spins. Lie? I would never lie to him. “I didn’t—”
“You stood there last night. You heard when I came to your room. Heard what I said.” There’s a growl in his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Well, didn’t you?”
It feels like there’s a fist in my throat. I try to swallow, to speak. But I know my voice will waver. Instead I nod, slowly.
“So either you listened, basically laughing at me, because you knew you were going to come. Or you heard all that and still came. Knowing I didn’t want you to.” His hands move in jerks as he speaks. “Which is it?”
My mouth goes dry. “Don’t be like this.”
“Why not? Oh, sure, you’d love it if someone double crossed you.”
I should be compassionate. He’s clearly upset. But I’m not about to let him accuse me of betraying him. Not when I just want to be with him.
Dad always warns me that my Spanish temper gets me into trouble. Grinding my teeth, I square my shoulders. “Double crossed? Are you kidding me?”
Michael sighs and I see his stance relax. The fight’s draining from him. “We were supposed to be friends.”
“Oh, and that’s why you wanted to leave me behind.”
“Never mind. I was better off alone. I shouldn’t have allowed myself…” He just laughs, once, clipped.
“We are friends,” I whisper and try to catch his gaze. But he avoids me.
Fingers to his lips, he shakes his head. “If we were, you would have told me the truth last night. We could have talked it out. Come to some sort of compromise. But go behind my back?” He works his jaw back and forth. “No. We’re not friends.”
His words make me flinch. I want to argue. Fall on my knees and plead with him. But the dead look in his eyes tells me the conversation is over. He trudges away from me and lumbers through a grove of trees, alerting every creature in a half-mile radius to our presence.
Right before he disappears from my vision, he clears his throat. “Well, are you coming? Or are you going it alone on this one? Pretty sure there are a lot of wild animals in these parts.”
Why does he have to be so touchy? I growl. Then I storm after him.
We walk side by side for a while. Pine needles muffle our footsteps. The sound of water churns in the distance. My vision bounces to Michael’s face. I can’t help it. But his stays trained right ahead. As if I’m not even there. He keeps taking deep breaths.
It hits me then. I’ve ruined everything. The winks and the way he’d find me across a crowded room. His constant teasing and that ready laugh. It’s all gone. I killed it.
Maybe Michael was right about Eugene. Perhaps he is crazy. Why did I listen to him? Why did I allow him to say things to me as if they meant anything? Was I that starved for someone to see something important about me? Something worthwhile? I cringe. I’m stupid. Rash and dangerous, just like Lark and Donovan said.
My eyes dart to Michael’s profile. I’ve lost the one good thing about this whole shifting mess. His good opinion. No, I’ve lost more than that—him.
If justice existed, Nicholas would shift me right now. I don’t even care where to. The ideas are endless. For a start, how about he tosses me into the midst of a mine field? The belly of some giant whale might be nice. Or Mars. Honestly, he can have his pick.
Adrift in my thoughts, I’m not paying attention. My toe catches on a rock, and I pitch forward. Michael’s firm hand grabs my upper arm, jerking me back so I don’t fall. Just as quickly, he lets go.
I run my fingers over the warm spot on my arm. “Thanks.”
“Be more careful.”
We come to a clearing, and Michael makes his way to a grassy knoll overlooking a large river. Yanking off his backpack, he drops it to the ground. Next, he lowers himself to the grass. Slowly, as if his joints hurt. “Well, at least we know Eugene brought us to the right spot.” He juts his chin to indicate the body of water. “The mighty Mississippi. Welcome to Tennessee.”
Besides the dirt embankments littered with soldiers on either side, the Mississippi River looks like Chicago during rush hour—a flurry of stilled activity. Riverboats churn past each other in the black water, a steady slap ... slap ... slap. The lanterns onboard radiate light so brightly that they look like slow-moving behemoths, swimming through the water with their backs on fire. Some heave loads that cause them to list. Others seem determined to reach their destination first at any cost. Their chimneys puff up coal-laden smoke. Covering my mouth, I cough. The air tastes of
cigarettes and fish.
I sit a few inches away from Michael. “So this is Memphis, huh?”
He scrutinizes the bustling harbor. “Yeah, not quite the same as in our time, but it’s a pretty significant place during the Civil War.” The light from the river traffic illuminates his serious expression.
One smile, would that be so hard? I nudge him with my shoulder. “Hey, you don’t need to look so grim. I might not be amazing at history, but I do know the North wins.”
Releasing a long burst of air, Michael shoves at his backpack. “That’s just it. If you—if we mess up. If Shifters fail on our missions, then the South could win. Nothing has to end up how it was when you left.” He runs his hand through his hair, and strands scatter across his forehead. “You could die out here, Gabby. I’m not kidding. Don’t you understand that?”
His voice is so panicked, and his eyes wide and roving. He looks like he’s been up for nights on end, pulling his hair out. My muscles burn to hug him—to take some of the tension from his shoulders. I’d reach out for his hand if I knew he wouldn’t pull away.
I settle on speaking in a calm voice. “I’m not concerned about that.”
Finally facing me, his lips curl into a sneer. “Not afraid of dying?”
“No, I’m terrified of that.” Might as well risk everything. I lay my hand on his knee. “But I’m not nervous because I’m with you. You promised you’d protect me on our first mission together, didn’t you?”
Uprooting wads of grass from the earth, he bunches the pieces in his hand and lets them sail upon the breeze. At least he doesn’t jerk away from my touch. “I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t protect you. I can’t protect anyone.”
“I don’t believe that. Not for a second.”
“Well, you should.” Now he moves his knee. My hand drops to the cold ground. He rises, crosses his arms. Watches the river like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “People die around me.”
What do I say to that? Really, beyond the last week or so, I don’t know him. Well, his history at least. If I think about it, he hasn’t shared much. Not that I have either, so no blame there. You don’t shake someone’s hand and ask for their life story. Still, I may not know about Michael, but I do know what kind of person he is. Maybe people have been killed on his watch, but in this line of work, I can’t image that not happening. The Michael I know did everything in his power to save them. I feel that truth to the core of me.
