Mindspeak

by Sunseri, Heather

  Then something occurred to me. I wondered how much Seth knew about me. Had Jack explained my ability or my nose bleeds to Seth?

  I reached down and grabbed my teacup sitting on a napkin. While trying to keep Jack blocked, I thought, What about the journals, Seth? Shouldn’t Jack and I make one last attempt to find them? Especially knowing what I know now?

  This would tell me if Seth knew about my ability to plant “original” thoughts inside his head.

  “I’ll go pack my things.” I walked slowly toward the island on the other side of the kitchen and set my cup down. A trickle of blood formed at the opening of my nose. I blotted it with the napkin.

  From behind me, Seth said, “You know, maybe you and Lexi should make one last attempt to find Peter’s journals.”

  I stilled.

  Turn around, Jack thought.

  You left me no choice. I turned and tried to hide the fear I was sure haunted my eyes now.

  You have any idea what someone like Seth might do if he discovered you could alter his mind?

  “How do you know I’m even looking for Dad’s journals?” I asked Seth, ignoring Jack.

  “Oh, Lexi. You have proven to be quite resourceful. Don’t play games with me. Your father came back to Kentucky to get his journals, and I think you know exactly where they are.” He took a sip of his coffee. It amazed me how relaxed he stayed. “As a matter of fact, I think you know way more about all of this than you’ve let on.”

  I wiped my nose again. “What makes you think I know anything? I didn’t know anything about some stupid journals before Dad came to town.”

  “But you knew about the clonings.”

  I gasped. “God, no.” I glared at Jack and back at Seth. “This might be some big game to the two of you…” How could anyone even suggest that I knew I was a monster before yesterday? “This is my life you’re so eager to play with. Everyone has always been so crazy quick to map out my life’s plan for me. And before yesterday, I had no idea how far some people had gone to do it.”

  Anita reentered the room. She was always so quiet. Seth and Jack both remained silent. Anita and Jack traded a worried glance. I made a mental note to ask Jack later what that was all about.

  “Are we done here?”

  Seth threw his hands up. “Do you think you can find the journals? Do you have any idea where they might be at this point?”

  I had no idea where my father hid those journals. I wasn’t about to let Seth know that though. They were in the car with Dad for all I knew. “Sure, I have a few more ideas.”

  “Fine, then. Both of you, return to Wellington, but keep your eyes open.”

  “And Jack,” Seth continued, “I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to let her out of your sight for very long.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I blew through the door to my dorm room early that afternoon, like an EF4 tornado. I marched in with my bag, knocking a book off my desk, but leaving the stack of papers beside it untouched.

  The nerve of those two thinking they could force me into some top-secret program for the study of Edward Scissorhands-like medical atrocities. I grew up surrounded by Dad’s strange notion that he could cure all the diseases of the world with his crazy experimental research.

  Well, I would have no part of it. And they couldn’t force me.

  “What happened to you? You look awful.”

  I spun around. I hadn’t even noticed Danielle when I stormed in. She glanced up from the open laptop on her bed where she sat in a half lotus—a Yoga position that would kill my knees.

  “Thanks.” I puffed a lazy strand of hair off my face as I struggled to bend down and pick up the fallen book.

  “Seriously, what happened?” She closed the laptop and swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor. “Did you get into a fight?”

  I dug through my bag and pulled out my cell phone, then walked to my desk and pulled out the starfish trinket box that Dad had sent me. In it, I had stored the card from Marci Daniels, the journalist who delivered the box.

  “What?” I asked as if it was the stupidest question ever. “No. I didn’t get into a fight.”

  I typed a text message to Marci in my phone. “Hi, Marci. Need to see u. Can u come to me? Hard 4 me to leave school. ~Lexi.”

  As soon as I had texted Marci, I fired off one more text to her. “P.S. What do u know about Sandra Whitmeyer and John DeWeese?”

  I stared at the phone, willing Marci to text me back instantly. Even I realized how ridiculous it was to expect that. The phrase a watched pot never boils came to mind.

  Danielle began tapping her bare foot on the floor. I raised my eyes and found her arms folded tightly across her chest.

  “I’m sorry. No, I didn’t get into a fight. Jack and I were in an accident.”

  “What? Lexi, why didn’t you call me? Are you okay? Is Jack okay?”

  “We’re both pretty sore, but I think I got the worst of it. Which is pretty good, considering we’re both alive and walking around.” I tried to laugh.

  “Well, thank God.” Danielle stood and hugged me. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  “I feel the same way. Thanks, Dani.” I hugged her back.

  My phone buzzed with an incoming text. From Jack. “Get 2 room OK? Take pain pill and get sleep. Meet for dinner?”

  Mmm. Cafeteria food. How could I turn that down? I was not taking one of those painkillers. They made me completely loopy and overly tired. With everything going on, I wanted my full wits about me.

  I shrugged at Danielle after reading the text. “Jack.”

  “Ahhh. I can’t believe we’ve been here six years, and this is the first guy you’ve dated.”

  “We’re not dating,” I protested. Not really. It was one date. I quickly fired off a text to him. “Sure. C u l8r.” Who was I kidding? I was in love.

  “Yeah, right,” she said as she began packing up her books. “Keep telling yourself that.” She swung her backpack over her shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got a study group to get to. You need anything before I go?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got some studying to do myself.”

  Danielle left. Just as the door clicked closed, my phone buzzed again.

  “Be there in one hour. ~Marci.”

  ~~~~

  “What do you know about Sandra Whitmeyer?” Marci answered my question with a question. Journalists.

  “Not much, really,” I said. “Only that she worked with my Dad and Dr. DeWeese once upon a time.”

  Marci twisted and wrung her hands in her lap. We sat on a bench outside a classroom building. It wasn’t a popular spot on Sunday afternoons.

  From her sneakers and jeans all the way to the conservative auburn ponytail, Marci looked different than in the snazzy business suit and three-inch heels she’d worn the day I met her. No amount of make-up could cover the darkness now living under her eyes.

  “Well… I have some articles that were written about her twenty or so years ago. Some feature her research and some societal stuff. Your father didn’t speak very… um… favorably of her.”

  “Any pictures?” Did Marci know I was the spitting image of Sandra Whitmeyer from the time those articles were probably published?

  “If there were pictures, I didn’t notice them.”

  “Strange that Sandra’s name didn’t sound familiar to me when I first heard it. I’m sure she would have been mentioned in the scores of articles I’ve read regarding my dad’s old research.” Noticing Marci shift where she sat, I reached over and placed my hand on her fidgety hands. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. This has all been a little too much.” A couple of girls jogged behind us, and Marci jerked toward the scuffle of feet. “My editor wants to go ahead and publish the articles. But the FBI has threatened to squash the articles forever… a matter of homeland security.” Marci wrung her hands in front of her.

  “Homeland security?”

  She nodded. “The government can stop an
ything from going to press. We can yell ‘freedom of speech’ and ‘First Amendment rights’ all we want, but if the government deems it a matter of national security, our lips are sealed.”

  “Can you tell me what the articles are about, now?”

  The sadness, or maybe it was fear, that swam in Marci’s dark, brown eyes gave her a more youthful appearance, and made me want to comfort this woman who, I suspected, had loved my father for more than the scoop he provided.

  “Before I tell you, you should know why I’ve fought my editor to keep these articles unpublished since your father’s death.”

  “Okay.”

  “Your father made me promise him one thing before I moved forward.” She stood and walked a few steps before turning and facing me. “I promised your father time to move you somewhere secure. He thought you were safe at Wellington while the public was in the dark about his research. But he also thought these articles might put you both in danger. He was already receiving threats.”

  “And now you think I’m in danger?”

  “I think anyone who knows what I’m about to tell you, or could know about it, is in danger.” She sat again.

  Was this about Jack and me? Did she know that we were genetically-altered, cloned humans? Was Dad on his way to move me the morning he was killed? “Just tell me,” I whispered.

  “Lexi, your father was working for the FBI when he was killed. He had compiled information about a governmental program that was cloning human beings that were genetically altered to be healing machines.”

  She could have punched me in the stomach and not have knocked the air out of me as quickly as those words did. Healing machines? “What are you talking about? How many human clones are we talking?”

  “He didn’t know.” She buried her face into her hands. “Or he was killed before he told me.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?” My voice was barely coherent.

  “Lexi. He wanted to tell you. He planned to take you away with him.”

  That was becoming obvious to me.

  “Do you know why Dr. DeWeese went to Sicily?”

  I shook my head.

  “I suspect that, because your father gave them full guardianship over you, they went to collect his belongings.”

  I’d never known exactly where my father lived. “You think his journals are there,” I whispered. What gave Dr. DeWeese the right to collect my father’s things?

  “I think his latest journals could be there, but…” Marci glanced over her shoulder and then scanned the area around us, stopping on the school’s gate in the distance where a couple of men stood.

  “But?” I prompted.

  “Your father’s too smart to have left his journals where they would be easily discovered.”

  “If Dr. DeWeese thinks these journals are in Sicily, and if you and your editor already know what this ‘discovery’ is, then why is someone trying to kill me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shared the details of the wreck with Marci. Worry and fear weighed the bags under her eyes down even further.

  “Are you safe here?” she asked.

  “I think so. But I need your help.”

  “With what? I’ll do anything I can.”

  “I want to know exactly where Sandra Whitmeyer is. Do you have contacts that can find her? Her current address. What she’s doing now.”

  “Have you asked John DeWeese? Seems like he would know. Or is it too awkward?”

  I arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “They were supposed to be married before she broke it off. I just assumed he probably kept up with her whereabouts.” When my eyes just about popped out of my head, she continued. “I assumed you knew. I didn’t realize the importance of that. Their engagement announcement made the society pages.” She reached down and began sifting through what looked like a satchel of file folders. “Now that you mention it, I think there might have been a picture.”

  ~~~~

  I know you’re up here.

  I pulled my knees in and scooted further into the darkness. Hiding from Jack was the mature way to go. The roof of the girls’ dorm used to be the place I could escape at nights. To figure things out. Lose myself in the stars above. Be closer to heaven and God, maybe.

  God. I chuckled. Oh, how he must have cringed when Jack and I were created. No wonder we were almost killed Friday night. We were an abomination.

  Lexi, I know you’re upset.

  Upset? No, upset was way too kind a word. I fought hard to close off my mind and keep him out of it. Jack probably thought I was being quite the drama queen. It wasn’t that I was hiding. I was assessing. Searching for some sort of survivor instinct deep within me.

  His footsteps grew closer. The stars above me twinkled, reminding me of a time when my grandmother used to sing to me and whisper nursery rhymes as I fell asleep.

  Amazing how complicated life can get. I fingered the starfish and the key hanging around my neck.

  Please stop this, Lexi. His foot shuffled as he made a turn. He stood close. Look, I’m sorry. I should have told you.

  Go away, Jack. I’ve reached my allotment for insane stories today. My entire life was engineered eighteen years ago. Right down to whom I was supposed to love. And you knew. I know you did.

  “At least you’re talking to me now,” he said softly, almost a whisper.

  I don’t want to talk to you right now. Don’t you get it? I peeked around the corner of the wall I hid behind.

  He turned his head left, then right, and then at me.

  I leaned my head against the wall. Did he see me? This really was juvenile.

  “You would only have heard my actual words if you were near,” he said, leaning against the brick and towering over me.

  I tilted my head up. He peered down at me with a smile.

  “What do you want? Is it too much to ask for time to deal with all this… all this… life-controlling junk?”

  He stepped away from the wall, and I thought he was going to leave. My heart practically stopped. It was what I wanted, right?

  Instead of leaving, he walked around and sat beside me. His shoulder against mine. His knees bent in front of him like mine and flush with my legs. Only his were longer.

  “You’re right. I’ve had longer to deal with a lot of this junk. I wish I could give you that same gift.”

  I risked a look at him. I hadn’t thought of that. He must have been surprised when he learned what his father had done all those years ago.

  “The simple truth is we are what we are.” Jack grazed the back of his hand against my knee. “And because of that, someone wants one or both of us dead.”

  The lump in my throat prevented me from speaking.

  “The other simple truth is…” He slipped his fingers under mine, and cradled my hand in his lap. “In one weekend, someone tried to drug you, kill us in a car accident, and drown you in my swimming pool. I don’t know if it was the same person every time, or what…” Jack leaned his head against our tangled hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I don’t think you can make that promise anymore.”

  “That’s why I think you should run.”

  “What?” I angled my body towards his.

  “I’ll help you. I know someone I can trust who can get you a passport under a different name. Cash. Whatever. We’ll map out a plan—”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  He shook his head, with a look of defeat. “It’s your only option.”

  I pressed my finger to his lips. “No.”

  “You have to.” His lips were soft, warm. He spoke through my fingers.

  “I’m not running.”

  “Lexi, please,” he pleaded.

  “My grandmother would be left all by herself. I would have no one. There is so much I still don’t understand about who I am. Why my father was killed. I’m not going to live a lie. I… We were created for some purpose I don’t understand. I’m not going to turn m
y back on whatever that purpose is. Not yet, anyway. Not before I at least understand it.”

  Jack leaned his forehead against mine. Took in a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I didn’t think you would agree, but I had to try.” Something in his voice told me this wasn’t the last time we’d discuss this. “But you’re going to have to get used to seeing me a lot more. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  I smiled. “I think the dean might have a problem with you moving in with Dani and me.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll pull the ‘she’s my sister’ card.”

  I stifled a laugh.

  “Okay, not that. I’ll think of something.”

  We sat there for several minutes. Jack played with my hair that hung against my cheek and down past my shoulder. His eyes drifted down to my lips. I leaned closer giving him full permission.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. They were soft and carried a faint taste of mint. He tugged on my arm and guided me closer. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in his lap, cradled against him. His lips were hot on mine.

  And I knew.

  I knew I’d never run. I wouldn’t turn my back on my newfound identity, even if it went against everything I believed in. Because turning my back on the monster that I was would be shutting out the beautiful creature who held me now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Listen up.” Coach Williams paced in front of the team after morning practice. “Dean Fisher has halted all off-campus travel. No one is to leave Wellington without express permission from a parent or guardian.”

  Coach’s eyes traveled over my teammates’ faces but stopped on mine. I shifted and crossed my arms. Water dripped off the end of my nose. I was the reason my classmates and I had been confined to campus until further notice.

  “And furthermore, if I find out any of my swimmers sneak out and break this curfew in any way, in addition to the dean’s punishment, you will not swim in the state qualifying meet in two weeks.”

  Why was he staring me down as he said that? I glanced around the deck to see if my teammates noticed the guilt written all over my face.