Chosen Ones (The Lost Souls, #1)

by Tiffany Truitt

  “What happened? You don’t have to tell me, of course.” But I could see the anticipation on his face. He wanted the knowledge I could give him. James’s fascination with music and books, and maybe even with me, suddenly made sense. He couldn’t judge because like me, though for very different reasons, he was also somewhere outside the meaning of humanity.

  I swallowed and continued. “When we came to the compound there was a lot of disorder. Back then people still questioned. They still cared. Henry’s father, well, he died when Henry was young. In the war. So when Henry came to the compound it was just him and his sisters and his mom. I remember seeing him around, but we didn’t really speak. I had my sister…”

  I pressed the handkerchief harder, more forcefully against my scalp.

  Old habits died hard.

  “My sister told me that his mother and sisters couldn’t take it anymore. They didn’t see the point of the compound. They disagreed with some of the new practices put into place by the council, mainly the ones about our system of punishment.”

  “The slash marks,” James offered. His fingers tapped nervously against the wood floor. I wondered where his tension stemmed from. Was it a burning desire to hear the rest of the story, or fear of what it would reveal?

  I nodded. “Yes. So they left. They took Henry with them.”

  “But it’s not safe to leave. There are Easterners and Isolationists out there. Some of those Isolationists are desperate. Men who have been away from civilization too long. The stories they have told us…”

  “You don’t need to convince me. I know. I learned from Henry.” I felt the pain stirring inside of me, but it was not mine, not directly. It was the pain of my one-time friend. The pain I had willingly taken on. “The council found them, his mother and sisters, dead only three weeks later. The things that were done to them.” I shivered and my mind momentarily wandered again to the girl upstairs. Was there any place in this world that was safe?

  “Henry survived? How?”

  “I don’t know. He’s never talked about it. When he was brought back to the compound, so many people hounded him with questions, like he hadn’t been through enough. They wanted to take whatever he had left of himself, too.” Something I now understood all too well.

  “But you didn’t ask him.”

  “No. It wasn’t my place.”

  “And that’s how you became friends?”

  I nodded. “One day I just sat next to him at breakfast. I’m not sure why. We didn’t talk. It went on like that for days—I would sit next to him, we wouldn’t talk. One day he asked me if he could have my leftover pancakes. And that was that.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the memory and was surprised that James was smiling, too.

  “What changed?” he asked.

  “Things always get more difficult for our kind as we get older, especially between males and females.”

  His smile faded.

  “When you’re young you don’t know. And nobody talks about it. The adults just sit there and leave you to figure everything out on your own. I never understood the danger that surrounded our friendship, never suspected it carried with it a threat. How could I? How could I ever fathom that one day he would stop seeing me as Tess, his best friend first, and a girl second—to a woman first, and then as his friend? I never realized the way time worked. It was always against us.”

  I had never said these things out loud.

  “He knew it long before I did,” I whispered, more to myself than to James.

  A powerful sigh shook my body and I dug my nails into my knees. “Henry started to distance himself. At first, I felt betrayed. I didn’t know what was happening. Only recently did I understand. When he left me—”

  “He was saving you,” James spoke up. My eyes pounced on his.

  “In his own way, yes. It never would have come to that. That’s not how I thought of him. He wasn’t that type of soul mate.”

  “Soul mate? I’m afraid I have never heard the term,” James admitted.

  I laughed harshly. “It’s silly. Something my sister used to talk about all the time.”

  “Tell me. Please.” I could hear how his voice wavered between issuing an order and asking for a favor. How it must feel to constantly be stuck between having complete authority over someone and wanting them to willingly give in of their own accord. None of this was easy for him, either.

  “It means someone you are destined to be with, to love forever. I never really agreed with that definition of it though.”

  “What is your definition?” James asked.

  “I believe a soul has many different aspects, different levels to it. And there are people who can fill a part of you, make it stronger. The part of my soul that longed to be carefree, the part that didn’t know fear or disappointment, that was the part of my soul Henry belonged to. He took it with him. But at least I know it was for the right reason.”

  I was stunned by the honesty of my words and hopeful that I could still believe in them.

  “I can’t figure you out.”

  I glanced up at James. He had a way of utterly confusing me, dragging me out of my own world, and I craved to know how he viewed it. Did he find me as interesting as I found him? As different from the others around us?

  He cleared his throat. “I know how I am supposed to feel. About your kind. God knows they’ve given me enough reasons to think that way. But everything I hear, everything they tell us about the naturals, it…it just doesn’t…it doesn’t explain you.”

  I wasn’t sure if I felt insulted or a sense of pride from his words. But I felt something.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you don’t exactly fit my definition of a chosen one, either,” I offered with a slight smile. How strange to smile after such a morning.

  James’s face clouded over. He pushed his hand through his dark brown, almost black hair. “I don’t think I fit anyone’s definition of a chosen one.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  Did he want to fulfill the council’s expectations? Or was he merely feeling the pain of being an outcast? A pain I was beginning to realize existed not when one failed to fit the mold created for him, but when one didn’t even know how to define that mold.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. I watched as his eyes traveled back to his desk, glancing at, seeking comfort from, the book.

  “What about you? You must have loads of friends.”

  “If you’re referring to Frank, we’re not exactly friends. He just turned to me because I am the only one foolish enough to care.”

  “Is he all right? Is he sick?”

  “Tess, there are things I can’t talk about. Things I don’t want to talk about. This is one of them.”

  I nodded.

  James stood up and stretched. I wondered if it was unnatural for him to sit still so long with no other purpose than to simply have a conversation. I took him in, allowing my eyes to travel across the boy who stood before me. I could see the hint of muscles under the tight tweed coat that covered his arms. My mouth went dry.

  I did enjoy looking at him.

  Especially that scar.

  He moved with a slowness that seemed foreign to him, hesitating as he stood in front of me, reading something on my face, wordlessly asking me for permission to be this close. I knew if I looked down, he would move away.

  I didn’t want him to.

  He took a seat in front of me, and my knees almost touched his. He glanced at his hands for a long while. Then, with a sigh that spoke of uncertainty, he turned back to me.

  “I think maybe we can be friends.”

  His words caught me off guard. It sounded more like a question than a firm declaration. I picked at the fabric of my skirt, unable to look up at him. Did he really, truly, want to know who I was?

  “Why?” I asked quietly.

  Was it just to satisfy some bizarre fascination, some need to know the girl who didn’t have a place with her own peo
ple? Or did he actually like the small, almost undetectable glimpse of me I had allowed him to see?

  “I… Would it work if I said I didn’t know? Would you settle for me saying that it’s just something I want? Even if I know it is wrong to ask for it.”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  He hesitated before continuing. “I won’t… If you’re worried about… I swear it wouldn’t be like that.”

  I looked away, no doubt blushing. I hadn’t exactly thought something of that nature was a possibility. In fact, if I were honest, it was part of what attracted me to him. I knew I could never do anything of that sort with someone like him. And he wouldn’t want to with me. Or would he?

  I did find him attractive.

  No. I sought friendship, nothing more. It wasn’t safe to become close to someone back at the compound—friendship there would be too oppressive. I couldn’t hide from it. I would only be spending nine months at Templeton. If this fell apart, I never had to see this boy again. But I would be stuck at the compound for the rest of my life.

  Besides, there was nothing natural about a relationship between one of my kind and one of his. The thought of it was wrong, and yet…

  “You are right. Perhaps we can be…friends.”

  A note of mischief flitted in his eyes. In a quick series of movements he had opened a trunk and returned holding out two dark, tattered, worn books. I instinctively sat up straight and held out my hand. In it he placed one, Jane Eyre.

  “Have you read it before?”

  “No,” I said hoarsely. I wanted to cry at the sheer beauty of it.

  His face became even brighter. “How splendid.”

  Our bodies were nowhere near touching, but the sense of him so close both attracted and amused me. He cleared his throat. “What about this one?” he asked, holding up a novel called Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I shook my head. “Your namesake,” he replied, setting the book on his desk. “We’ll save this one for another time. Don’t think we’re quite ready for it yet.” A slight redness colored his cheeks.

  I gently opened Jane Eyre and started reading the first page out loud.

  Chapter 12

  I was fourteen when I lost my best friend. This was when Henry left me. Growing up in the compound would have been beyond boring had it not been for him. Our friendship probably seemed strange to those around us—we hardly talked. We didn’t need to.

  A lot of the time, especially when we first became friends, we spent just with each other. I didn’t have the words to talk about losing my parents or the music and books that I loved. Neither of us knew how to talk of the things we had seen. Neither of us would ever force the other to talk about it, either.

  As we got older, we became little smart asses, experts at mocking everyone and everything around us. We had secret nicknames for people. And nothing could touch us.

  But change is inevitable.

  Fourteen was an awkward age for me. I had grown in places Emma never had, and her hand-me-downs never fit right. I once even stole some tape from the supply closet and tried to flatten my growing chest. If Henry noticed, he never said anything. I was becoming the monster the council constantly warned us of.

  Eventually, Emma secured me clothes that fit. She traded laundry duty with Sallie Jo for three months for them. I was beyond thankful. I still felt weird in my new body, but at least I could cover it up.

  I wasn’t ready to become a woman.

  One morning, as I sat with Henry at breakfast, I caught Joseph Nickerson staring at me. It was the first time I’d seen anyone look at me in such a way, but I recognized the suggestive gaze from the videos. I tugged self-consciously at my blouse, making sure I was covered. Henry’s brow wrinkled as he sought out the cause of my discomfort. When he saw Joseph continuing to stare at me, the fork dropped from his hands. Then Henry was staring at me.

  His look was unfamiliar. Without a word, he got up from the table. When I tried to visit him later that afternoon, I was told he was ill. Three days passed without me seeing him. It left me antsy.

  Finally, I found him pacing out behind the compound—one of our favorite activities.

  “You’re okay?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Were you even sick?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “What? Why are you acting so weird?”

  He was staring at me again. I took a step away from him. I didn’t know why I had the need to distance myself, but I felt it in my core.

  “It was harder than I thought it would be,” he replied quietly.

  “What was?”

  “Staying away from you.”

  “Why would you purposely do that?” Was it because of what I was becoming? I had no control over that. He had to know I would still be different than the other girls. I wouldn’t be controlled by my emotions.

  Henry took a step away from me. That one step, that one moment, and everything we had was gone.

  “I can’t…”

  “Henry.”

  “I can’t, Tess.”

  I knew what he was waiting for. He was waiting for me to tell him to stay.

  But I didn’t know how to ask that of anyone.

  The words of Jane Eyre skipped through my mind. How deceiving they were. No wonder the council had outlawed books. Stories enabled you to forget your life and your limits. They urged you to reach for a world that was never meant to be yours. There was nothing more dangerous than an imagination.

  As I walked to the mess hall, I knew I looked like hell. I didn’t bother to tame my hair, which was no doubt matted with blood. I didn’t give a damn. Life couldn’t be one extreme or the other—feeling nothing or being a slave to my emotions. There had to be some sort of middle ground. I wasn’t able to live on one side of the spectrum.

  There were ways to relieve some of the pressure of everything that weighed down on me. I would give in to what my heart demanded, but only a little. I would control it still. I had learned sitting in the room with James, listening to the words of Jane, that everything was about moderation. Reading the book, however wrong it was, allowed me to escape. But I would have to watch myself. I could not become seduced by the ideas belonging to the story. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to feel a little, but I would have to be careful. I had to remember how weak my species was.

  I wanted to see Henry.

  The mess hall was loud, much too loud. It was so bright that it was as if my senses were on overload. I needed sleep. After searching for a while, I spotted him and stopped dead in my tracks. There he was, as if he had always been there. And I realized he had seen me, too. He stopped and stared straight back at me. We must have only been ten feet apart, but neither of us took one step in the other’s direction. I felt the fingers of my hands reach for him on their own. He seemed to sense this and took a step back.

  Our gazes still never broke. I held my ground, refusing to free him from my stare, and he didn’t try to escape. He looked so different from the boy I remembered. Our meetings were moments trapped in short glances—this was something different. While he was still rather lanky, his arms were toned. His sandy blond hair was longer than most of the boys. It was painfully obvious that any trimming he did by himself. His bright green eyes still entrapped me as they always had. He was nowhere near as beautiful as James, but genetics certainly hadn’t been unkind to him. I actually smiled.

  After a long pause, Henry smiled back. I noticed the pain in it, the pain I wished I could take away. A smile full of the sacrifice he had made for me. I nodded and he returned it. Then he walked away.

  I can’t say how long the interaction had lasted, but it had been enough. I needed to know he still existed; I needed him to know I still existed. He represented a part of me I was beginning to wish back.

  The pain that threatened to crush me ever since Emma died didn’t seem all-powerful. I knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but I would hold onto it for as long as I could. I noticed a bounce in my step. I felt light.

&n
bsp; I knew the smile still lingered on my face as I walked back in toward the serving line, and I made no attempt to wish it away. But when I turned and quite suddenly found myself with Robert, it grounded me. He stole the smile from my face.

  He looked worse than I could have ever imagined. Wild and unkempt. I could feel the hate sliding off my skin: it was liquid, electric, flowing from inside me, down my legs onto the floor. His face twitched as if it were struggling to hold something back. I stepped to move around him but the sound of his voice made me stop.

  “Tess? Be on your guard. Templeton isn’t safe for you.”

  I flashed him the dirtiest look I could muster.

  “What concern of yours is my work detail? I’m only there because you couldn’t resist having a go with my sister.”

  I didn’t hear the next words he said. My eyes had somehow found Henry again in the crowd. He sat at a table with a girl who seemed faintly familiar. When he moved his hand to brush a piece of hair from her forehead, I felt my breath catch in my throat. He scooted closer and began to whisper something in her ear.

  “Who is that?” I asked Robert, motioning to where Henry and the girl sat.

  “Were you even listening?”

  “Who is it?” I snapped.

  “Julia Norris.”

  I watched as Henry’s hand moved to Julia’s stomach. With a gasp, I noticed she was with child.

  “Did you know she was a Templeton girl?” Robert asked. I could tell by the tone of his voice he was on the brink of falling apart. He was so weak.

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t wait to hear what he said next. The sight of Henry and Julia Norris made me sick. Was the child Henry’s? How could he be so stupid? How could he choose her?

  I walked away without hearing the rest of Robert’s warning.

  I felt cheated, like I’d lost something that was never mine in the first place. Henry had gone on living without me.

  Chapter 13

  James hadn’t asked for me to visit for a few days, so I was left to clean the many classrooms of Templeton. Even Gwen didn’t bother to check up on me. I felt alone. After the scene with Henry, it was the last thing I wanted to feel.