“Mine too,” Jack said.
Not such a cliché after all. I started toward the open door.
“Wait,” Jack said, a sense of urgency in his command. He stepped close, towering over me. His dark gaze met mine. “Let’s go somewhere. Get a coffee or something.”
“What? Why?” I glanced at the bellhop holding the car door open for me, his eyes averted elsewhere.
“Because I think you and I probably have a lot to talk about. Things others wouldn’t understand.”
“I don’t think so,” I answered quickly, though a small part of me regretted it immediately. It was just that his sudden appearance in my secret life frightened me.
“Well, you’ll want to sooner or later.” He ran his pointer finger down the bridge of my nose. “How’s the nose bleed?”
I leaned my head back, away from his touch. “It’s fine. No big deal.” I struggled to find a clear voice while he stood so close. Did he know why I got a nose bleed?
He reached his hand further. His fingers feathered my forehead. “And the headache from earlier?”
A nervous knot flipped in the pit of my stomach. I studied his expression—the lift of his brow, the slight curve of his lips. He was right. I had so many questions. Like, how did he know where I went to school if his father and mine hadn’t seen each other in years? Why did I feel like we knew each other already when his father looked shocked to see me, a seventeen-year-old? “It’s fine, too.” What did any of this have to do with The Program?
“Suit yourself. We’ll talk another time then. See you around.” He backed away slowly before turning and climbing onto his motorcycle. He pushed his helmet down on his head and snapped the strap in place before kick-starting the bike and riding away.
I realized too late that I still had his jacket.
Chapter Three
Briana leaned across a study table and ran a finger down the page of Jack’s spiral notebook. She flipped her red curls over her shoulder and giggled at something he said. Her blouse barely covered the precious parts of her ample body thanks to one button too few.
Only Bree could find a way to make school uniforms sexy.
From behind the stacks across the library, I stared, my mouth agape. Anger built just watching that girl throw herself at Jack. Apparently, she’d learned he was in The Program.
When Briana laughed out loud a second time, Mrs. Roberts, the librarian, raised a quick finger to her lips and shushed her. I laughed softly.
“Why are you here, Jack?” I muttered under my breath. Great. Now I was talking to myself.
Jack’s eyes lifted. His gaze circled the room until it landed on me. His lips curled just slightly, and he lifted his head in a silent “hello.”
Only then did I realize I was still smiling, always glad when Briana was in trouble, even if only a little. I busied myself with sorting books on the pushcart, while still studying Bree and Jack.
Briana followed Jack’s line of vision, and after giving me the snake-eye, she shifted to block Jack from my view.
I had led him around every inch of campus that morning, managing only small talk. When he’d tried to discuss the previous Friday night, I’d changed the subject, still hoping to speak with Dad about Jack and his father.
Dad had delivered a controversial speech in the States after a two-year absence the same night his long ago partner and friend decided to deck him. That doctor’s son was now at my school asking questions that were off limits. It was all just a little too weird.
I turned up the music on my iPod and finished shelving the cart of books. Then, I found a private study desk in the far back corner of the library. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and after turning it on, began an online search for articles about Friday night’s dinner. Reporters were calling my dad an “International Man of Mystery.” Puh-lease. I thought that title was reserved for Austin Powers.
A title like that made medical research sound glamorous. Definitely not the case. Doctors and scientists worked long hours, sacrificed time with their families, and gave up any resemblance of a normal life. That’s what I knew about Dad’s “glamorous” life. Growing up, I hardly saw my father, often only getting leftovers. Friday, I didn’t even get that.
Another article discussed the various controversies of embryonic cloning and the many organizations that are currently protesting any use of such technology. The article said, “Geneticist and reproductive specialist, Dr. Peter Roslin, announced in a private meeting before the dinner that he was on the verge of declaring a monumental scientific discovery.”
Monumental discovery? “What kind of discovery?” I wondered.
The article went further to speculate that this announcement was the reason the host of Friday night’s dinner hired private security for Dr. Roslin during his stay in the United States.
What had my dad discovered that would warrant the hiring of security? I rubbed my fist in circles over my heart, massaging the ever-increasing anxiety there. Was he in danger?
There was no mention in any of the articles of Dr. DeWeese punching Dad in the face.
Next, I clicked on a link within the article that brought up an old feature story about the work Dad did long ago while still in the states.
“Can I join you?” Jack stood above me.
I pulled out my ear buds. “Um, there’s no other chair. Sorry.” I tried to keep my tone light and breezy when the pounding of my heart was anything but.
He walked away and returned a moment later with a chair. “Thanks for showing me around this morning.” He placed the chair beside me and sat backwards, chest against the back, facing me. “It’s tough. Starting a new school. Not knowing anyone.”
I cocked my head. “Seriously?” I pictured Briana draped across his books and in his face only minutes before.
He smiled. “No.” Jack nodded at the computer screen “That’s a nice picture, don’t you think?”
I glanced at the picture on my computer screen of my father and his. I turned back. “What do you want Jack? Why are you here? And why did your father hit mine last night?”
“Wow.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Which one of those would you like for me to answer first?” he asked, teasing. Daring me to choose.
I considered the weight of each question. He stared, his eyes steadfast on mine. Again, his face lengthened. The smug smile that usually brightened his eyes was gone.
“Fine. Why did Dr. DeWeese punch a friend he hadn’t seen in years?”
Jack glanced over his shoulder and leaned in closer. I studied the slight stubble on his chin and breathed in a subtle scent of shower gel. “I can’t tell you that,” he said and leaned back.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not ready.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked. My words echoed through the library.
“It means exactly what it sounded like.” His voice took on a more serious edge.
Blowing out a breath of air, I stood and began stuffing my laptop into my satchel. My hand shook. He must have noticed because he covered it with his palm, pushing my hand to the desk and stopping me from zipping my bag. His hand was cool over the heat of mine. I lifted my head and met his gaze. “You knew me before you arrived at this school. How?”
“I overheard part of a conversation my father had.”
“With whom?”
Again, Jack smiled, cocking his head.
“Fine. Whatever. Don’t tell me. Look, Jack. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but I’m not interested. Stay away from me. Got it?”
Before he could answer, or I gave into the urge to slap the grin off his face, I left him and took off for the pool. I had missed enough practices and needed to clear my head before dinner. Besides, it was just easier to run from life’s distractions. From Jack.
~~~~
I folded my clothes into my gym bag and started to close the locker door, but my phone sounded. Instead of ignoring it like I should have, I dug deep into the side pock
et and pulled the phone out. A text.
“Lexi, honey, please send the address of the storage place to this number. Thanks. Love, your father.”
I didn’t recognize the phone number. It wasn’t the number I had for Dad, and he didn’t sign texts with “your father.” Daddy, maybe. Or just Dad. As if that wasn’t weird enough, I had already emailed him the information he wanted.
What was so important in that storage anyway? As far as I knew, he hadn’t touched anything in that storage in more than five years. Why now? Some old journals? I let the phone slide back down in the pocket and slammed the locker door.
The warm steam of the heated water and the strong smell of chlorine accosted me when I stepped onto the pool deck into a puddle of water. I left my goggles and cap sitting on the edge of the gutter and dove through the water like a bullet. The only thing better than early morning team practices was having the entire pool to myself. I pretended to swim in the ocean. The open water. Free. Without limits. For more than an hour.
Although my mind wanted to get stuck on such things as absentee fathers, mysterious quests for some old journals, and Jack, I pushed hard against them. I imagined winning the high school swim championships, being accepted to a college where I could become whatever I was meant to be, and life after college as a doctor. I dreamed of freedom away from this school. I dreamed of spending time with Dad.
After pushing my workout to the limits, I stood under the hot shower and attempted to further drown the tension in my shoulders. The heat of the shower soothed my tired muscles, but something about the text I’d received earlier bugged me.
After the shower, I slipped into some sweats, brushed the tangles from my hair and tied it up in a knot on top of my head. The locker room was quiet except for the constant drip echoing in the showers. I wriggled my headphones into my ears. The soft strains of Yo-Yo Ma played, a soothing sound after a hard workout.
I wrapped my damp towel around my neck and lifted my bag. My sliders flopped against my heels as I walked toward the exit, my mind already shifting to the trigonometry test I had yet to study for that day.
Suddenly, a loud bang interrupted the soft music and my distant thoughts. I spun toward the sound. A shadow moved along the far wall near the door between the locker room and the pool.
I pulled a headphone form my ear and listened. I heard only the drip of a leaky faucet, so I shook off any paranoia. The sound must have been a locker closing. Another swimmer getting in an evening swim.
Shrugging, I started toward the exit again. The lights went out. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. My body froze, muscles tightened. Swallowing hard, I removed my ear buds and stuffed them in the pocket of my hoodie. “Hello?”
Nothing. The door to the pool area creaked opened and closed. The only light shone from an exit sign above the door to the hallway.
I stood, unmoving. Listening for footsteps. Anything. Maybe a custodian who didn’t realize someone was in here. I took another step.
The crashing of lockers cracked the silence, like a sudden clap of thunder in the dead of night. I flinched. My heart raced as if I had just finished a fifty-yard sprint. Paralyzing fear never won races. With my eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, I ran.
I swung open the door and almost pulled it from its hinges. I flew into the hallway, plowing into someone walking by. The person grabbed my arms and attempted to stop my forward motion, but it was too late. I knocked into the figure so hard that we both tumbled to the ground, tapping heads along the way.
I reached out a hand to break the fall and my arm got trapped beneath both bodies.
“Ow,” I moaned. “I’m so sorry.” I raised my head and met stormy blue eyes. “Jack?” Of all the people… A lightning bolt of pain shot through my arm, and my head ached.
“What is wrong with you?” Irritation wove through each word. He lifted his head, our faces only inches apart. The annoyance slowly faded, replaced by a bemused smile.
I breathed hard. Rolling off, I held my arm close to my body. “Ow,” I groaned again. The pain was enough to make me lightheaded. Had I just broken my wrist? Heat spread upwards to my cheeks.
Jack pushed himself up and then lifted me easily. “Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.
“Someone was in there.” I inhaled and let the breath out slowly. Embarrassed, I pretended to cross my arms, while in actuality, I cushioned my arm against my ribs. I didn’t want Jack to know I might have just broken it.
Concern blanketed Jack’s face. “What do you mean? In there?” He thumbed toward the locker room. “Who?”
“If I knew, do you really think I would have bulldozed you?”
“Well, let’s just have a look, shall we?” His voice was calm. He pushed through the door to the girls’ locker room.
I followed close behind him. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead and down my arms.
He flipped on the lights. “Is anyone in here?” We searched around every corner until we reached the opposite side of the showers and through the door to the pool.
“No one’s here.” He turned his eyes on me. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
By then, my heart had slowed. Whoever had been in the locker room was long gone. Then it dawned on me. “I’m such an idiot.” I laughed. “Great. That’s just perfect.”
“What’s perfect?” he asked. A line formed between his eyes.
Briana. Exactly the sort of thing she would do. Put me on edge; try to knock me off my game. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Someone was just playing a bad joke on me. And I think I know exactly who.”
“Who?” he asked, not convinced.
I shook my head. “Not your problem. Really. I think someone was just trying to scare me. Do you mind if we just forget this?”
He seemed to let it go. We walked back the same way we came. “You missed dinner,” he said when we reached the door to the hallway again.
“I’ll live.” I hated my aloof tone. But what? He was tracking my eating habits now?
I entered the hallway, followed by Jack.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Kyle Jones, captain of the swim team, stopped in the middle of the hallway. A smirk spread across his face.
“Hi,” I said, cringing. Though Kyle was a friend, he was also friends with Briana, and I didn’t really need anyone knowing I had paranoid fears of that girl. “Have you met Jack?”
“I don’t believe so. Hey, man. You’re the new guy, right? How’s it going?” Kyle shook Jack’s hand.
“Great. Nice to meet you.” Jack stuffed both hands in the front pockets of his khakis.
“Kyle is on the swim team with me.” As I’m sure Jack could tell by the Wellington Swim Team sweatshirt he had on. “And my really good friend.”
Kyle nodded, his dark brown hair hung in a messy shag around his face. His grin and the way he folded his arms across his chest told me he couldn’t wait to get me alone and ask me what was going on between me and the new guy.
“Lexi was assigned to be my tour guide.” Jack gave me a sideways glance, answering the question I suspected Kyle had. His eyes drifted down to my arm that I still held close to my body. I squirmed under his scrutiny.
“And she was showing you the girls’ locker room?” Kyle asked.
Fire crept up my neck and exploded across my cheeks. “You know me. I like to be thorough.” I flashed an unspoken “thank you” to Jack for not telling Kyle what had happened. I didn’t need Kyle joining the growing list of members in the Lexi’s a Freak Club. Jack was already president. That was enough.
“Well, I’ve got a trig test to study for,” Kyle said. “I’ll catch you two later.”
I gave him a low wave with my good hand as he passed us and continued toward the boy’s dorms.
Alone again, Jack brushed his fingers along my hurt arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I tried to keep my tone even. The truth was my arm radiated fire. “Thanks for not revealing to Kyle t
hat I’m an idiot.”
“What? Because someone purposely tried to scare you while you were alone in a locker room? That makes you an idiot?”
“And they were quite successful. I feel stupid, that’s all.” I looked down at my pink toenails peeking out from my sliders. When I lifted my head, Jack’s eyes burned into mine.
“How’s your arm?”
I squeezed my eyes tight. Caught. I tried to move my fingers, but pain stopped me. “Broken?” I sighed. “Which is just perfect. How am I supposed to swim with a broken arm?”
“Your face is pale.” He reached his fingers to my face. “You’re clammy. And you have a knot on your forehead where our heads hit.”
Thank you for that thorough examination.
He reached for my other arm. “Let’s go.” He glanced down the hallway in both directions before leading me back into the girls’ locker room. His eyes were wide, crazed.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
He said nothing as he led me around the corner close to the bathroom stalls and I let him. This guy, who showed up yesterday, was going to murder me right here inside this locker room, and no one was going to find my body until morning. By then, he’d be long gone.
I wasn’t usually one for melodrama, but…
Jack faced me. “I’m sorry. You’re not ready for this, but you’ve left me no choice.”
“Not ready for what?” My chest rose and fell.
“Sit.” Jack walked over to the sinks and splashed water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror like he was mentally preparing for something.
“Excuse me?” I examined the tile floor. A used Band-aid littered a nearby corner. “I’m not sitting on this disgusting floor.”
He closed the distance between us. His fingers wrapped around my good arm. “Sit.”
I should fight him. Kick him in the shin. Punch him in the face. Something. Instead, I leaned against the wall, and holding my elbow, he guided me down the wall.
He knelt on one knee in front of me. “You’re going to have to trust me.”
Mindspeak Page 3
